


Asylum

by Evil_is_Relative, Wynni



Series: Telki Tales [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8107930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_is_Relative/pseuds/Evil_is_Relative, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynni/pseuds/Wynni
Summary: A Dagi Dovahkitty bard gets snowed in with a now Daedric Champion of Cyrodiil.  Will satisfaction be enough to bring her back should her curiosity prove fatal?





	1. And then Suddenly

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative work with Evil-is-Relative. It is VERY alternate-verse. In fact, I think Telki pretty much as her own multiverse by this point. Besides her original monogamous dragonborn 'verse, she's a bard in Linnea's verse, a bard in Ysmir's kalpa, and now, in the successive kalpa, a polyamorous dragonborn. People may have noticed a few screenies of just Telki and Gideon? Yep, that's another dimension in the multiverse. This was a lot of fun to write, and trying to figure out how a poly would think and do was very interesting. Hope you enjoy this as much as Evil and I enjoyed writing it.

  
It was snowing out, predictably enough. This storm was a doozy, however, with snow rising from the ankles to the knees in the space between teatime and dinner, and night setting in so fast it looked like Mundus just gave up and rolled over. The inn had a reassuring amount of smoke rising from the chimney, and a man bundled to his ears (not a Nord, obviously) was industriously sweeping snow from the front porch. Inside, the inn was not empty, but not overly full, holding mostly the few travelers that managed to get there before the storm hit and were now reluctant to head back out into it. A Breton in black robes appeared passed-out drunk on one table next to the Bard, who was definitely passed-out drunk and under the table. The innkeeper was scrubbing the counter, chatting with a few farmer-types sitting at the bar. A lone mage in eye-blinding robes sat in the corner next to a clear, freshly cleaned table. He had his arms folded over his chest, and was either dozing or staring into the fire. He was, he fancied, devastatingly attractive, appearing somewhere around thirty with shoulder-length brown hair and topaz eyes, and had the odd distinction of smelling not of road or smoke, but scones. 

“Spring cannot possibly get here quickly enough to suit me!” Telki burst through the door in a swirl of snow and bluster to match that outside. The little Dagi-Raht in purple and green traveling leathers quickly bustled over to warm herself at the fire. Three men followed her quickly inside the warmth of the inn, all clustering around the open pit-hearth. The men couldn’t have been more different if someone had tried: tall dark haired Nord in plate, a Dunmer in scarlet leathers, and a brown haired Imperial wearing mage leathers. Many a tavern joke had started with such a crew, yet the four comfortably shared space around the pit-hearth. Shared touches and looks amongst them spoke of more than affection, if one knew how to read the signs. The matching knotwork rings winking on their fingers spoke a little more clearly.

“Alright, my fingers have feeling again. Shall I see about playing for a room?” Laughing purple eyes took in the soused bard under the table. ”It looks like the inn bard is on break.” The Dunmer, Erandur, and the Nord, Gideon, shared a sardonic grin, while the Imperial, Mercutio, openly snickered. She left the boys sorting who would play chanter and who would play drums. “Hey Thoring, mind if we play for our supper?”

“Sure! I haven’t heard ‘Merry Markarth Merchant’ in a while.” Telki rolled her eyes; he asked for that song every time she stopped by. Thankfully, it was as easy to play and sing as she was heartily tired of it.

The figure in the corner stirred slightly, but didn’t bring attention to himself. He’d been watching the other patrons for a while now, and wasn’t really impressed with the quality of entertainment. He needed something if he wasn’t going to be...pressed...into making some of his own. There were only so many minutes you could stare into the fire before going, well, a little stir-crazy. 

And crazy was something he was strenuously avoiding.

Telki shrugged off her outer layer, revealing her playing garb, and mouthed to her companions “The Usual.” Apparently, Gideon lost the draw, and unenthusiastically grabbed the drums. Erandur twirled the chanter into place, and Mercutio drew out the one instrument he wouldn’t embarrass himself on: another lute.

Telki launched into the lighthearted and raunchy ballad, complete with dance steps, carefully picking her way daintily all about the pit, tail twitching and kerchiefs flying.

The Breton mage in black made a droning groan that might have been singing along on the raunchy parts. The two-toned mage in the corner looked up, eyes following the dancing figure intently. He’d seen a lot of dancing figures, and was considering doing the fishstick, but he shoved the impulse down, preferring to be himself, rather than Himself, for a while. It was why he was here, after all.

As the song drew to a close, Telki pirouetted in place, and bowed theatrically. “Any requests?”

The drunken Breton yelled out a song that had been banned in Cyrodiil over twenty times, but kept coming back because..well, actually because of him. After his shout, he promptly fell back on his face on the table.

“Any other requests?” Telki slightly winced. The song requested was one her vocal cords would thank her for passing up, but she didn’t want to insult the Innkeeper’s regulars.

Seeing the pretty cat lady wanted to sing something else, he finally gave in and called out a song that had been classic in Cyrodiil in his youth, and was considered quite courtly now, for its age. If she knew that, he’d be impressed, but it was one of the first things that popped into his head. If she didn’t know it, he might even teach it to her. Maybe. If she didn’t make fun of him, though Felicia had always said he sounded well enough. 

Hearing a request for “The Milkmaid and the Goatherd” Telki felt her eyebrows rise. She knew it; she was probably one of maybe three bards in all of Skyrim that did. She near drove the College batty nosing in all their old choral books and asking to be taught the tunes. She nodded to her fellas, and they took seats to listen as well, and she started the flirty and poignant song. She just wondered what a Cyrodiil nobleman was doing playing vagrant in Skyrim. It was bound to be a ballad worthy tale. Sixteen different plans to weasel the story out of him flitted through her head before she could put down her lute and casually saunter over to him.

A half-full mug near the snoring Breton’s head found its way into her hand as she passed by him. A little liquid encouragement never hurt anyone.

The mage clapped with the rest, smirking a little under his hood as he saw the practiced ease with which she “acquired” poor Sam’s Mug of Everlasting Cheer. He loved Khajiit, really. Always up for some fun. 

“So, how hard are you gonna make me work for your story?” Telki smiled warmly at the fellow. Shor’s Halls, but he had eyes bright and gold enough to make a Sathay-Raht jealous. She neatly folded herself onto the seat, tucking her feet under her legs.

The man considered this. He was lonely, she was pretty, and it would be a lot of fun messing with the three men he could tell were all gaga for her. (Yes, gaga was a word in Old Crazy.) He could use the company, he supposed. At least it would keep him from ruminating for a while. Pushing back his hood, he considered her. “It’s very boring,” he lied, tone completely serious.

“Hmmm. Nope, don’t think so.” Telki grinned at the look on his face, and started ticking her reasons off, finger by finger. “ An Imperial Noble, more, an “Old” Imperial noble, who looks as young as I do, and in hiding in Skyrim? No story involving those elements could ever boring. So? Share, and I’ll tell you how I wound up here, and not talking like a sandslinger.” 

The Imperial’s eyebrow rose. “You were kidnapped by Legionnaires off the road thinking you were a Stormcloak?” he asked, making it sound as if that was the most absurd thing he could think up on short notice. 

“Nah, that happened after I got here, and doesn’t explain why I’m not ‘this one-ing’ everything, does it?” She smiled at him over her cup, and went to take a sip ‘til the smell reached her nose, and burned all the hairs there. No thank you, she wanted to remember tonight. She still remembered that horrid grog Orgnar tried to push off on her last trip to Riverwood. No, thank you.

“I once had a Bosmer...uh...friend that swore by Azura all the time. Mostly, in my experience, Bosmer swear by salad, so it takes all types.”

Telki shrugged. “Erandur is a priest of Mara. I thought I was still dreaming when I met him. Yep, more types than you can shake a stick at, most days. So, is there a pressing reason you can’t share your story with me?”

He chuckled, letting the full force of a smile that had once won over a hardened thief out to play. “As soon as I tell you, you’ll leave, and I won’t have anyone to talk to. What reason should I tell you then?”

It started with a little giggle, but it kept growing until she was helpless and silently laughing on the table. Her companion only watched, eyebrows rising slightly, that secretive little grin never fading. It was refreshing to see mirth untainted by hysteria. It took a full five minutes for her to regain her composure. Money silently changed hands behind her at her boys’ table.

“You...you think I’d quit talking to you if you tell me? Really? Hi, I’m the chatterbox extraordinaire, have you even met me?”

“I haven’t actually. You’ve neglected to introduce yourself or your gambling friends.” The grinned quirked upwards on one side. “Of course, I haven’t introduced myself, either.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do since I sat down here with you? Silly man. Hi, I’m Telki Tailkinker, Thane of Nine Holds, at your service. My monetarily impaired friends are as follows: Gideon Rainier, Paladin of Shor; Erandur, Priest of Mara; and Mercutio, my darling Imperial mage and arrogant ass.”

“Hey!”

“I warned you I would!” Telki called back over her shoulder to her companion. It was more for form than any real upset. She’d kiss it make it better later anyway.

“You sound like a very pious bunch,” he said politely.

“Hardly pious. Pious is a word used when someone usually means ‘self righteous bigots’ and nope. Will we help someone? Absolutely, and probably sometimes when the smart thing to do would be to high tail it outta there, but eh. I’d hope most people would aspire to that much. Your turn.” Telki propped her chin on her fist, elbow braced on her folded knee, and regarded him with her full attention.

“Are you asking about my piety or my name?” he teased, echoing her gesture and propping his head on his hand.

“Name first, we can discuss piety later.”

With a charming grin, he hopped up, giving her a full blown Court bow over her hand. “Romulus, at your service.” Plopping back down in the chair, he added, “as long as service doesn’t require going back outside.”

“Oooh, classy name. I’m guessing mom was a fan? That explains knowing the classic songs, too. It was from the Champion’s time period, if I recall correctly. And no, I wouldn’t even send a frost troll out in that mess. Eish.”

Rommy twirled a fork in his hand, effortlessly and thoughtlessly moving it from one finger to the next. “It was historic even in that time, actually. Loooong line of famous Romuluses.” He winced, remembering a hundred lessons and a thousand swatted knuckles, “Or so I was told. Over and over. All the time.”

“Ouch, is that why you’re way out here? Either getting away from all that rigamarole, or trying to live up to a legend? I’m rather hoping it’s the first. Shows more sense.”

Scoffing, he replied, “I have even less sense now than I did then.” He was definitely trying to get away from something, but not slapped knuckles.

“Sore subject, sorry shug. So, what would you rather talk about? Kites and strings and sealing wax? Of cabbages and kings?”

He laughed softly. “Alice…” he muttered, as if at a memory, then shook his head. “Actually,” he said in a more normal tone, pinning her eyes with his golden ones, “I’d rather talk about your eyes.”

“Really?” Telki quirked an eyebrow at him. “They’re purple, and they tend to glow in low light, and I have excellent night vision.”

Oh, if he was his alter ego, that would probably get her dropped into a Falmer nest for fun. Luckily, Rommy was Rommy and not Sheo at the moment, so she wasn’t going to be dropped anywhere or suddenly blinded. “I have a special fondness for purple eyes.”

“Oh? Any particular reason, or just because?” Now she was curious. It wasn’t like there were violet eyes all over everywhere. She’d met maybe four people in four provinces counting herself. “Someone you knew, or just the idea? It’s not a common color.”

Leaning around her, he snagged a bottle of brandy that he’d ordered but not drunk, pouring it in a small glass and letting his hand warm it, filling the air with it’s smooth aroma. “Actually...It’s a sign of royalty.”

“...Say what?” Voice flat. That was a new one on her, and she’s studied. A lot. She had enough responsibilities, thank you; she wasn’t looking for any more.

Giving her Dunmer an arch look, he said, “I’m surprised your Priest of Mara doesn’t know this already, actually.” Taking a sip, he continued. “The old royal line of Morrowind, the one that Talos killed off--except for Barenziah--all had purple eyes. It was considered a sign of the royal family. Anyone that has those eyes, at some point, had an ancestor from that family.” 

“Interesting, since I’m Khajiit, and depending on who you talk to, being Dagi-Raht is either a moon form, or there’s Bosmer in there. As far as I know, no Dunmer.” Telki said. “So there’s that.” She gave him an impish grin. “Looks like I’m safe from any machinations or responsibilities in Morrowind.”

Waving a hand dismissively, he assured her, “They wouldn’t let you anyway. The Nords don’t have a monopoly on racism. Besides, any Dunmer of that line in your blood would probably have come from…” he trailed off, then had the grace to flush, “...uh...slavery.”

“As long as it’s history, and not a current practice I have to worry about, I’m good. It’s okay shug. History often ain’t pretty.”

Rommy found that pretty funny, and looked down as he laughed in case anything...slipped out. History wasn’t pretty at all. They tried to cover it up, to dress it in flowing lines of honor and self-sacrifice, but he’d lived it, at least part of it. Grand destinies were more than uncomfortable, they usually ended up with the figure in question dead, or wishing he was. Destiny clutched you tight in punishing hands and left your own grasping at nothing, wondering when you lost your grip. “Anyway…” he looked up, waving the hand with the brandy glass to indicate she should say something more. 

Honestly, the guy looked like he could use a month of hugs, just to get started. He was starting to worry her, slightly. “Okay, I’ll grant you, current company named after history is pretty. There. Betters?” 

Eyebrows shooting upward, he smiled and said, “Mistress Telki, are you flirting with me?” fluttering his eyelashes on that last point to make her laugh. Her laugh was lovely, pure and innocent, and it chased shadows back under chairs and into corners where they belonged.

“That depends, you brave enough to get the permission slip signed first?” Telling him he needed hugs would probably have shut him down faster than a Thalmor caught at a Talos’ shrine, but challenging him? That might do it.

Rommy glanced over at the three men accompanying her and gave a mock shudder. “Perish the thought. I didn’t bring my lawyer to write up a legal disclaimer anyway.”

“Aw, darn. I guess I’m just teasin’ with you then. Care for an exchange of pithy remarks and witty banter? And scones. I didn’t even know Thoring knew how to make scones, but I’ve been smellin’ ‘em for the past twenty and I want a bite.”

Sputtering on the sip of brandy he’d just taken, Rommy coughed, hitting his chest a few times before giving her an indecipherable look. Reaching into his bag, he “summoned” a scone in a piece of folded cheesecloth and presented it to her, leaning in close so that his breath tickled her ear. “If you want to have a bit of fun, they don’t have to know I gave up.”

“Aw honey, for you, I’d ask on your behalf, but nothin’s happening without clearing it with them. I may have multiple lovers, but I’m no cheater. It’s all aboveboard or nothing.” She took a nibble, closing her eyes and making the most extravagant sound of pleasure ever heard outside of sex.

Rommy looked shocked for a moment, then shook his head, “You misunderstand. I just want to tweak their whiskers, such as it is. I know I’m not going to bed with you, and you know it, but what’s the harm in making them squirm a little before they figure it out? It’ll drive them crazy.” Driving people crazy was his pastime, after all. It might be fun to include someone else in on it.

“Oh darlin’ I do like how you think.” A mischievous grin lit up Telki’s face. “Make room, and I hope you either have the patience of a saint, or are wearing a cup.” Telki made herself at home on his lap, going so far as to proffer part of her scone to him.

“I have the patience of a Daedra, but they can wait a bit, too,” he replied, always happy to accept food.

“Eish, Daedra.” Telki let her lips turn down for a moment, before consoling herself with the excellent scone, proffering the next bit to Rommy.

Tapping her on the tip of the nose, he replied. “There’s nothing wrong with Daedra, so long as you don’t talk to them, invite them to your parties, or...interact with them at all, really.” 

“Sugarlump, that’s hard to do when they’re practically chasing you across Skyrim, and so many of them have the manners of a ….I can’t think of a word bad enough. Even nice ones like Meridia could use a little help in the bedside manner department. So uppity she was. Azura was okay, though. Sheo seemed alright, but that book I found. I dunno.”

So she was the Khajiit that had fixed Pelagius's head. He’d wondered. Rommy tilted his head questioningly. “Book?”

“Well, most of the stories, I was even cheering for him, because he was either teaching a much needed lesson, or actually freeing a town from a jerk of a king, but there was one that just wasn’t nice at all. I mean, precisely why would Malacath of all Daedra need to be taken down a peg? Isn’t being swallowed and…excreted bad enough? And precisely what did that poor Orc do to deserve being just a head for the rest of his existence? He was actually trying to make a positive difference in the world.”

Arm around her waist (but hand not anywhere objectionable), he gave her a little, comforting squeeze. “That’s the mistake most people make about Daedra. Or Aedra, for that matter. Daedra embody change, which is neither easy, nor always good. Sheogorath in particular is an agent of chaos. He does what his whims say to do. Maybe one day, they’ll tell him to return Malacath’s son to him.”

“Hmm, nope, sounds like an excuse. I mean, change is necessary, and by working for his people and himself, that Orc was changing things around him, improving things. So many of the Daedra embody harmful change, and it shouldn’t always be that way.” Telki shook herself. “Listen to me, getting all philosophical while I should be feeding you this scone and sending my guys right up the moon. “ Telki turned quickly and pressed a large bite into Rommy’s mouth, kissing the tip of his nose as she did it, mischief dancing in her eyes.

Rommy flushed slightly, glancing down and then promptly back up as he realized where his eyes had just gone. Well, that was bound to be misinterpreted. Oh well. “Sorry. Daedra are a particularly interesting subject of mine. I...studied them a lot. Worried my parents horribly, of course, which was the point.”

“Oh, I wish I could claim something so innocuous! Nope, I had to be the bloody stupid Dragonborn, and get chased by every Daedra from here to there. Thankfully, I haven’t had a run-in for….months now. Knock on wood.”

Laughing so hard he almost tossed her off his lap, Rommy couldn’t get over the irony of that. Finally getting his laughter under control, he asked, “So you’re this kalpa’s Dragonborn, hmm? That explains a lot. Thank you, by the way, for making sure that brat didn’t eat the world. Hate it when he does that.”

“Oh, taking out Alduin was my pleasure.” Telki startled as the rest of what he said registered. “Wait, wait wait. What did you just say?” Telki was hoping beyond hope he didn’t just imply what she thought he’d implied. 

Backtracking quickly, he prevaricated, “I told you I studied, didn’t I? I know Alduin was Akatosh’s firstborn that mantled him. That makes him a brat, in my way of thinking. And who wants the world to end?” Rommy really, really didn’t want her figuring this out. It would bring Him out, and He would play this pretty little mortal like she played her lute. Catgut puns included. 

“So, that was all hypothetical?” She really wished she could keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. She didn’t think she was wearing blinders, but borrowing trouble was never a good thing, either. 

Rommy gave her a very sober expression, “Mehrunes Dagon is not this pretty,” he assured her. 

“Well, aren’t all Daedra shapeshifters? I suppose if he wanted, he could be, but no amount of shapeshifting can hide what a complete and utter jerkwad he is. I don’t think he’d let me sit in his lap, either, not after killing his Dremora and raiding his shrine.” Telki couldn’t help but snicker. 

“You razed his Shrine?” he asked, eyes warm with approval. “Good for you.”

“Yep! Walked off with everything not nailed down. Gideon took his spiffy hammer to the altar. Erandur consecrated it to Mara, and built a shrine to her right on top of the place.” Telki fed him the last bit of the scone.

Rumbling with laughter, Rommy stood, placing her neatly on the floor. “I’m getting a bit restless. Do you like to dance?”

“You saw my performance, and still feel the need to ask? What a gentleman. Yes, kind sir, I’d be honored.” Telki gave him a proper old world Cyrodiil curtsy. “What dance does my Lord prefer?”

“I’m not fussy,” he replied. “But let’s let your men continue to relax, hm?” Raising his hand, green sparks of Illusion magic wafted about his fingers for a moment before he opened them, releasing them as if from a cage. A spritely tune filled the air. A few of the other patrons looked up, startled, but one or two laughingly started to whirl each other around the fire pit.

“Dost thou ken the steps to ‘Red House’ my Lord?”

“My dear Mistress Telki, I have had every dance ever danced in Cyrodiil so pounded into my head your own would ache in sympathy if you knew.” Giving her a grand bow, he offered his hand. 

“Good, that means you’re certain to know the very few I was able to dig up, then. I know this one, Candlebrook, and Gosler’s jig.” Telki gently laid her hand in his. “I suppose, if you’re feeling frisky, you could teach me a new one?”

He laughed gaily. “Perhaps,” he said, whisking her off. Romulus, though a great disappointment to his parents for the longest time, excelled at just about anything that had to do with motion. His muscle memory was incredible, and this had made him a very coveted dance partner at the few parties he had bothered to show up for. 

Telki was in hog heaven. The boy could dance like nobody’s business, and she learned two new dances out of the deal. That was part of what bothered her: A lot of little things were not adding up where Romulus was concerned. It could be that he was simply an oddity like she was. He had muscles, finely toned as Gideon’s, if not as bulky. There were callouses on those palms. She didn’t notice at first, because most everyone she knew had them, even Mercutio, who Gideon routinely browbeat into learning how to fight, in case he ran out of magicka or was caught flat footed.

And he had just cast seriously hardcore magic. The sort she was pretty sure was even beyond Mercutio, and she had been half convinced he knew all there was to magic. He’d even shown her some of the more impressive spells he’d been crafting on his own.

So, old school manners, really up on old Cyrodiilic culture, knew more about Daedra than most scholars, impressive mage, and seemingly a hellacious fighter if the callouses and muscles were anything to go by. Just who or what was Rommy? And what would the consequences be if she got an honest answer out of him for it?

That was a really harsh pill to swallow, because before this moment, she would have said that an honest answer was always worth it.

“Your fur would probably hide it, but if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles,” he informed her, bringing them to a halt but not letting go of her. It was too fun watching the flittering expressions on her boys’ faces. Briefly, he thought of seeing what they were thinking, but it was so much more fun not knowing, and letting their actions have less context. Maybe one of them would even try to punch him. 

“Oh! Sorry. Just some sad self-realizations. Sucks when you discover you’re not as awesome as you thought you were.” Whoever he was, he had a nice chest, so she propped her head on it. Now he couldn’t see her frown.

“Oh?” he prompted, the music taking a softer tone as he simply moved them into a slow, casual dance. 

“Nope, this Little Girl is not opening the Curious Box.”

Patting her on the back lightly, he said, “Probably for the best.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it, or that I’m any less disappointed with myself that I’m actually letting it slide, but I’m tired, you’ve been good company, and I don’t want that to change, so shush already.” Telki buried her nose in his doublet.

Rommy shook his head. “You wanted to know my story? My parents were very into upward mobility. I had a lot of lessons as a child. They taught me history, and other scholarly pursuits. I had tutors in fighting, and magic. Maybe I’m not the mystery you think I am.”

“Rommy, I’m a trained Bard. Lying with the truth is something they teach you first year, if you hadn’t learned how beforehand. Shush n’ let me enjoy dancing with a very nice, though very sad, gentleman.” 

With a little sigh, he finished the dance, then pointed out that it was a bit late. Well, what he actually said was “Akatosh’s backside o’clock” but he’d had another swallow of brandy by that point.

“Okay, I have to remember that one. That’s hilarious.” Telki had laughed, “Good night, sweet prince, until we merry meet again.” Telki curtseyed low, and sashayed back to her menfolk. She had a lot to share, before burrowing down in the covers between them.

Rommy waggled his fingers at them in a salute before heading over to drag his inebriated brother to a bed. Sanguine was always much happier in the morning if he hadn’t been bent over a table all night. Of course, he was always happier if someone was in the bed with him, but Rommy wasn’t going to arrange that for him. How he couldn’t sleep anymore but Sam could pass out drunk, he’d never know. Maybe that’s why he did it in the first place. 

“Just what was all that about?” It would be Mercutio to ask. The most arrogant attitudes always covered the biggest insecurities in Telki’s experience. Well, maybe she wasn’t quite done teasing them.

“He wanted to wind you boys up a bit, and since I knew where I was sleeping tonight, I was hoping to reap some fringe benefits.” Telki leaned in, letting her voice deepen to that pitch that was guaranteed to cause the right kind of shivers. “Did it work?”

From another room, a slurred voice with a High Rock accent could faintly be heard calling: “Yes!” Mercutio eyed the wall speculatively before turning back to Telki.

“Minx, you know it did.”

“You know the best part, shug?” Telki wrapped strands of his lovely silky brown hair around her fingers. “Even though you know, it’s still gonna work.”

“I know.”


	2. The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanguine is a pest  
> Mercutio is jealous  
> and Romulus mopes.
> 
> How's a Khajiit supposed to keep resisting that blasted 'Curious Box?'

Romulus hadn’t slept since the Oblivion Crisis, so he was naturally up before the innkeeper. Most of the patrons last night seemed to have been townsfolk, so there wasn’t anyone else about to distract himself with. Being Rommy, he set about baking, because it beat staring into the fire all night, fighting laughter and trying not to remember other fires, other scenes filled with coal black and bright red. 

Sam sauntered out looking, if not fresh as a daisy, at least less drunk. “I need a drink,” he declared. 

“Of course you do.”

The Daedric Prince of Debauchery glanced at the door as if he could see through it. Rommy wouldn’t be surprised at all to find out he could. He’d certainly been staring in its direction long enough. “What’cha making?” the seeming Breton asked. 

“Scones. And jazbay tarts. And honey-nut treats. And--”

“I get it. Breakfast spread. Where’s the mead?”

Rolling his eyes, Rommy handed him a fresh one from behind the counter. “You should be a Nord.”

“Eh,” the man said carelessly, wandering around with his drink. “Hey, they left their lute out here!”

“I think that was your bed partner’s,” Rommy said, grinning slightly. At least, until a horrid dissonance filled the air. He cringed, “If you don’t know what you’re doing, please don’t try.”

“Oh, what, and you do?”

Rommy shrugged. “I brought music to the world, remember?”

Sam shoved the lute at him. “Prove it.”

“There is a bard in that room far prettier than me. You sure you don’t want to watch her play?” 

Sam stared at the door again. “I think she’s asleep.”

With a sigh, Rommy wiped his hands off on a towel, then took the lute, looking it over. It had been a long time since he played as himself. He hadn’t had much interest in it as a human, but since becoming the Daedra that gave music to the world in the first place, his interest in it had waxed. Sitting at one of the chairs around the fire, he strummed it experimentally, then winced. The cold had warped it. Fixing it, he glanced at his brother in Daedric...Daedricness. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about that one song about the peasant girl married off to the ugly lord?”

“That is a soprano tune and I cannot hit it.” Not without being hit where he’d rather not, anyway.

“A lullaby?” 

“Just after dawn. Fitting for me, I suppose.” Clearing his throat, he sang out softly a tune he used to sing his son. “Oh, there’s something in my garden, and it’s been there for a week. I tried to feed it crackers, but it only made it squeak. I tried to wash his scaly head but all he did was cry. So I guess I’ll put him back to bed and sing him a lullabyyyy, a monster’s lullaby.

“Yeah yeah, your mother eats toads. May you grow a fine wart on the tip of your nose. Ding-dong, the cat’s in the well, so run and fetch another one….”

“You’re going to drown the cat?” Sam asked, surprised.

“It’s a nonsense song,” Rommy replied with a little grin. “It’s not supposed to make sense.” Continuing on, he sang “Oh there’s something in my garden, and it has a lovely nose. It has three heads, a wind-up body and twenty pairs of toes. Oh I’d call him Ken or M--” he faltered. “Martin, but he wouldn’t understand. And although he smells a bit like trash, I think he is quite grand, yes indeed, oh I think he is quite grand.” 

“Yeah yeah, your mother eats toads. May you grow a fine wart on the tip of your nose. Ding-dong, the cat’s in the well, so run and fetch another one…” A lilting soprano joined him for the chorus, as a still sleepy-eyed Telki shuffled in, staring hungrily at the honey-nut treats.

“Good morning,” he said, shoving the lute behind him. “Did we wake you?”

“Not the way you think. Your baking woke me up. Can I have the honey-nut treats?” She tried her most wistful wishful expression. It usually worked, but she wasn’t going to count it a done deal till she had the goodies in her hands.

Laughing, he motioned her to take what she wanted. “Who am I to refuse the cute kitty face? You can have whatever you want. I’d advise against taking that inebriated rascal, though.”

Sam slid over. “Hello. I am the inebriated rascal. Please take me.”

Telki laughed as she studied him over her carefully hoarded tray of honey-nut treats, nibbling on her first victim. “You look familiar, have we met before?” 

“I’m not forgettable,” he assured her. “You’d remember a night with me.”

She looked him up and down. “I’ll give you that one, but something...” Telki shook her head. “Maybe you just have ‘one of those faces’. I’m sorry. Telki Tailkinker, Thane of Nine Holds.” She slid a careful glance to Rommy. “Somewhat at your service.” She bobbed a semi curtsy, since she had no hand free to offer. Honey-nut treats were serious business, as anyone who had heard her eat them could attest.

“Would you like to be Thane of me, too?” 

Rommy tossed a muffin, hitting the other man in the head. “Behave. It’s not even dawn, for Aedra’s sake.”

“It might be! The snow makes it really hard to tell.”

Telki giggled around her bounty. Listening them, she could almost imagine she was back at the Trading Post. Poppa and his brother would bicker like that whenever he’d come to visit. “So, how long have you two been friends?”

They glanced at each other. “Feels like hundreds of years, honestly.” Rommy returned to kneading dough. “I met him when I was...oh, a teenager, perhaps? He tricked me into stealing the clothing off an entire dinner party. I didn’t know magic could be fun before that.”

“Oh sweet mercies, can I hear that story? It sounds like a hoot!”

“No!” Rommy said at the same time Sam said, “Sure!”

“I will put Poison Immunity charms on all your clothes so you can’t get drunk if you tell her,” Rommy threatened, shaking a dough-laden fist.

“Then I’ll drink naked,” Sam replied with a smirk, not bothered in the least. He actually sounded like he was looking forward to it.

Romulus raised an eyebrow. “In this cold?”

Sam paused, glancing at Telki. “Ah….”

Telki raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Rommy, is there a tale he can tell me about you two?”

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” the Imperial muttered, returning to his baking.

“Hmm, that’s interesting. You seem so fond of each other, or does this go back to the ‘Curious Box?” Telki put down her honey-nut treat. Her appetite seemed ready to desert her.

“Well, the one time, I was introducing him to my friends,” Sam began. “And my sister, ‘Mina, she thought he was really cute--” suddenly, the sound stopped. Sam’s mouth still moved for a few words before he stopped, confused, then pouted at Romulus. 

The Imperial glared at him, fist raised and shining with the Silence spell. “Stop. Your sister’s a nightmare and she doesn’t need to hear about it.” In fact, she was actively involved in stopping it, but he didn’t want her figuring it out. When Sam finally nodded, he released the spell.

Sam sighed. “You’re pretty sexy when you do those forceful things, you know.” Rommy just groaned.

The illusory music was impressive, but now, he’d somehow modified muffle to shut down talking? She had to adjust his mage prowess up a few notches, and it was already significantly up there, and she firmly reminded herself she Wasn’t Touching the Curious Box. “Still have a ways to go to beat what that dreamwitch tried to pull on Erandur,” Telki grimaced. “But that’s not a story for breakfast.”

Sam cackled as Rommy started beating his frustration into the dough. “Anyway,” Sam continued, glancing sideways at Rommy, as if daring him to do something else that the Daedra would probably enjoy too much. “‘Mina took a liking to him. So she started...sending him things. Through his people, mind. Made them all run to him for it to stop. He finally got fed up with her attention-seeking and goaded a bunch of Orcs into paying her a visit. She was not amused.”

“Neither was I,” Rommy said grimly, giving the dough a good punch. 

Telki shook her head. “Wow, talk about coincidences. So, want to hear about a real nightmare?” Telki pointed her half nibbled treat at Rommy, shaking it. “And I blame you, Rom, bringing up Daedra last night. Erandur hadn’t had a nightmare in ages ‘til our conversation.

“So, young Dunmer, brains scrambled to a fair thee well to worship this Daedric nightfuel inducer, runs when he finally gets a chance from an Orc attack, and gets sent back in to take out her little thingymadoodle. 

“And while he’s doing the ceremony, would you believe she had the gall to hop in my head all ‘Vaermina commands you?” Telki snorted. “Like I ever followed an order in my life. So I sent her packing. She was in my head, after all. My head, my rules.”

Sam sat at the counter, propping his head on his hand. “How’d you unscramble his scrambles?”

“Well, after I got her out of my head by giving her her own nightmare, I, um,” Telki blushed, thankful her fur covered it. “ Well. Let’s say I gave him a good memory to have of that place. But! I can’t take all the credit for unscrambling him. Finding peace with Mara did a lot. I think I just, helped finalize the deal, as it were?”

Sam smiled happily. That was his new favorite story. He planned to tell it next family dinner he was invited to. Turning to Rommy, Sam said “It’s amazing what demigods can do, isn’t it?”

“I’m still halfway to beating you with a spatula.”

“I’d like that.”

“Which is why I’m not doing it.”

“Hmm, is there any bacon around here? It’s time I got my guys up.” In front of Telki was a platter with nothing but empty skewers.

Sam waggled his eyebrows. “Can I watch you get them...up?”

“Down boy, I think you had too much vicarious fun as it was last night. Don’t think I don’t recognize the voice from the wall.” Telki puttered through the cold storage until she found enough rashers of horker bacon to do. Now to find a skillet and she’d be in business.

Rommy shoved a basket of eggs at Sam. “Make yourself useful. And if you fry them in beer again I’ll...I’ll take you to the Temple of Mara and make you listen to sermons!”

“Make sure it’s Briehl’s turn. He’s still learning and mumbles a lot. Extra painful.” Telki offered. “Though, if you use the right sweet mead, the eggs actually come out pretty flavorful.”

“Sweetheart, I know you mean well, but do not let this man give you anything involving alcohol,” Rommy advised.

“Then just fry the eggs with the bacon. You’ll at least win Gideon’s undying devotion.”

Thinking about it for a moment, the Breton said, “Will he give me something else? Devotion’s not as fun as some other things I can think of.”

“Get a signed permission slip from the rest of us first.” Telki was prepping the bacon. She had found some savory herbs and was rubbing them in. She was still waiting to see someone at least try for the permission slip. It should be fun to watch at least. Sam looked like he might be the first.

Sanguine perked right up. “Rommy! You learned all that noble drafting crap! I need a permission slip!”

“Eggs first,” Rommy replied firmly without looking up. 

With the first whiff of bacon on the air, the first of Telki’s boys stumbled out of their room. Gideon, with a massive case of bedhead and wearing nothing but his trousers, was still rubbing his eyes. He bounced off the doorjamb before finding his way into the kitchen. “Bacon?”

“It’s cooking love. Good morning.” Telki stretched to tiptoes, and Gideon still had to bend down. Momma Rainier grew them tall as trees. “Sleep well?”

Gideon gave her a half lidded smile, “Once someone let me sleep.”

“You are impossible, drink your coffee.” One could actually watch the individual synapses fire to life as he narrowed his eyes at both Sam and Rommy. It was clear something was bothering the big Nord. 

The Imperial raised a single, eloquent eyebrow at the man. “Put your pants on backwards or something?” he asked, in a perfectly normal tone of voice.

“Trying to decide how to have this talk civilly. Diplomacy’s Telki’s job; mine is keeping her safe.” Gideon neatly picked up a strip of bacon, and began chewing it, as Telki ladled the first share of eggs onto his plate. “That goes for her emotional well-being as well.”

“Best wait until after breakfast for civility. I’m dangerous when covered with flour,” Romulus said without batting an eye.

“I am fairly sure there is no time you are not dangerous, if you so choose.”

Rommy’s eyes flickered upward, regarding the man for a moment before returning to what he was working on. “Would you be helpful and get that jar of preserves from up there? Nords always put the sweet stuff on the highest shelves, and my little arms can’t reach.”

Gideon smiled around his bite, and complied. As long as he was being civil, Gideon would return the favor. It would help if he could pin down what unsettled him about Romulus. It wasn’t a sense of evil...not even the drunkard did that, though, ‘smarmy’ did read off him in droves. He quickly returned to his plate, situated so he could watch both men.

Rommy opened the winter sealed jar with no trouble, carefully spooning out snowberry jam into the bits of dough before folding them over in a quick, intricate knot, obviously having done this many times. His fingers were light and quick, and Sam paused to watch him. “You always are so good with your hands,” the drunk sighed happily. 

“Shove it.”

“With pleasure.”

“You know what I mean,” Rommy grumbled, by now so used to Sam’s flirting he didn’t even blush.

“And you know what I hope.”

“I am not afraid to tell the girls to stop visiting.”

Sam let out a whine much more suited to a toddler and pouted. “Two whole realms full of pretty girls, and you’d keep them all away?”

“Well, positive reinforcement isn’t working.”

“Fine. I’ll just fantasize about Tsun here’s happy trail.” The Breton turned to sigh and stare at the Nord, not being discreet in the least.

It took Gideon a moment to clear the bacon out of his windpipe, thankful most of Sam’s ogling was lost in tears and hacking. 

“Realms? Rommy, just how high up the totem pole are you?” Telki nonchalantly popped Sam on the head. ”Be nice, ogle after he finishes eating at least.”

Sam caught her hand. “Have you finished eating?”

“Sam,” Rommy called remonstratively, and in a voice that made it very clear he’s used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Sam pouted again as Rommy turned to Telki, “I’ve never climbed a whaz-it pole in my life,” he replied. 

“Skaal expression; the most important figures were always at the top.”

Erandur emerged then, looking more alert and a little more put together than Gideon, up to and including brushing his hair and putting a tunic on first. “Snowberry tarts and bacon? Is it my birthday?” Erandur took a seat next to Gideon, looking hopefully over to where the snowberries were disappearing into the oven.

“Nope, just Rommy’s baking spree,” Telki placed a full plate in front of him, and kissed him and Gideon both before turning back to fix Mercutio’s plate. 

Once again, Rommy and Sam found themselves the object of silent scrutiny, this time from Erandur. Rommy didn’t react, just going about his baking before he burned something. Sam wasn’t so intelligent. “So, Dunmer, I heard you defiled a shrine of Vaermina. She must be mad at you!”

“I suppose she is, as far as such a one cares about any of us mortals. I did consecrate Nightcaller Temple to Mara.”

Sam’s face screwed up slightly, as if he found this a debatable improvement, but the sight of it was quickly blocked by Rommy bringing over a plate of scones. “Forgive him, he’s just hopelessly rude.”

Telki laughed out loud and patted his shoulder as she passed. Her arrogant ass senses were tingling, and she had his plate on the table waiting for him the moment he showed in the doorway, picture perfect.

Before anyone could say anything, Sam slipped over to him. “Hello, I am a rude rascal. How can I be of service?”

Muttering, “I can’t take him anywhere,” Rommy moved on to see what was left of the bacon. 

“Um, hi? By letting me get to my food, perhaps?”

Grabbing his arm and leading him over to where the others were sitting, Sam yelled “Rommy! How many permission slips can you make on short notice?”

“I’ll make a blanket one if you quit asking,” the Imperial replied, rolling his eyes and dragging a chair over. 

Telki dished up the last two plates for Rommy and Sam. “Here boys, have at it.”

“Thank you,” Rommy replied, taking it courteously and tucking in with what was probably the most mannerly fashion anyone had ever tucked into breakfast. Sam kept dropping eggs onto his plate as the slippery things slid off his fork, since he wouldn't take his eyes off the quartette long enough to stab them properly. 

“That works better if you actually pay attention to what you’re doing, and not who you want to do, dear.” Telki was smooth as silk as she finally ate her own share.

Looking down for perhaps a split second, the Breton partially memorized where everything was before looking back up again. This time, most of the food made it to his mouth. Rommy considered summoning a Scamp to feed him, but dismissed the idea, because Scamps were notoriously messy and would probably only make things worse. 

“So, have we had ‘The Talk’ yet, or are we doing that after breakfast?” Mercutio asked. Telki could only shake her head. Rommy might have Sam as his cross to bear, but she had three of them, and there were times she swore Mercutio wasn’t that far off from a Sam of her own. Well, at least he could feed himself, she amended. 

“I’m still eating,” Rommy put in, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, then wiping Sam’s like a small child. Sam didn’t appear to notice.

“Not only am I still eating, I fully intend to have a few of those snowberry tarts, if I may.” Erandur nodded at Rommy.

“They need a few minutes,” he informed the Dunmer. 

“Ooh, just enough time for some quality snuggles.” Telki situated herself on Gideon’s lap, now that his plate was cleared, and propped her legs on Erandur, who casually caught them in a practiced move that immediately caressed the calves. Telki sighed in contentment. 

Rommy watched this silently for a moment before returning to his food. Sam sighed enviously. “Rommy, why don’t girls ever want to snuggle with me?”

“Because you smell like booze and have horns.”

“You jest.”

“Occasionally it happens.” He wasn’t, but...

Erandur’s puzzled look was back, glancing between Rommy and Sam. “Are you two related?” 

Rommy shrugged. “In a way. We might as well be brothers at this point, and--though my mother would disown me for it--I kind of think of him like one.”

Sam shook his head. “But I would dearly love to get into his pants.”

Rommy added, “Which is why we really, really confuse people.”

“Well, you two bicker like brothers, anyway,” observed Telki, who stopped and tilted her head for a moment. “Or an old married couple. Scary.”

Sanguine gushed, putting his plate aside and pushing his way into Rommy’s lap. “Sweetums!”

Romulus dumped him on the floor. “I am trying to eat here.”

“Oh, so you’ll let her sit on you, but not me?” Sam pouted from the floor.

“She is much prettier than you. And lighter,” the Imperial replied without missing a beat.

Giving Telki a once-over, Sam leered, “I’ll give you that one.”

Telki glanced over to where Mercutio was systematically and fastidiously disappearing his breakfast. It wouldn’t take him much longer. He glanced up long enough to send her a wink. She winked back, and settled herself against Gideon’s bulk. Nords put off some serious body heat. She was comfy and toasty right where she was. 

Examining them for a moment, eyes shaded, Romulus rose from his chair abruptly, putting his plate into the half-barrel of water to soak dishes in. “Excuse me,” he said, giving them a little bow before heading out onto the porch.

Telki stared after him, chewing her bottom lip. “Is he okay?”

Sam shrugged. “You probably remind him of...Well, you aren’t the first pretty girl with violet eyes he’s met.”

Telki scrunched her brows in thought. “I’m Khajiit, you’d think it’d take more than a similar eye color to set someone off like that. Should he be alone, or would going after him make it worse?”

“What set him off was probably all the gratuitous affection. I know it’s affecting me,” he added, waggling his brows. 

“I’d hug you, but you’d probably grope me from here to Oblivion.” Telki playfully stuck her tongue out at Sam, who stared at it, imagination working overtime. She glanced over at Mercutio, who was starting to look put out, so decided to play it off. Gideon hugged her a little tighter, and Erandur was squeezing her knees. Yeah, Her Boys were on high alert, time to save Sam from himself.

“Permission slip first, Sam.”

“He’d probably lay me out in the snow if I went and asked for one just now,” the Daedra replied, glancing at the door. Though his manner was relaxed, there was a hint of worry around his dark eyes.

“That’s it. I’ma go check on him. You guys play nice. I mean it. Sam’s mostly harmless. I think.” Telki added as she swiftly went after Rommy, throwing the first cloak she passed over her shoulders.

Seeing Rommy staring blankly up at the sky, knee deep in snow set off every mothering instinct Telki possessed. She carefully wrapped her borrowed cloak around his shoulders. “Hey you.”

He jumped, having not even realized she was there. The snow around him eddied in complicated almost-patterns for a moment before he collected himself. Looking down, he pulled at the cloak a little, like he was unfamiliar with them. “Don’t you need this?”

“Well, you bein’ such a gentleman and all, thought you might share it with me?” 

Giving her a soft grin, he removed it and settled it back around her shoulders. “Probably not the best idea right now. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t want to burn anything, after all.”

“Only reason I came out was because I was worried about you. If you need an ear?” 

Surprise flickered across his face. “You were worried about me? Why?”

“You’re a sweet person, and I’d like to at least be friends.” Telki shrugged. “You also set off my caretaker instincts six ways to Sundas, if your ego isn’t too fragile to handle that little tidbit.”

Giving a little chuckle, he rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “I don’t actually have that much of an ego. Odd, for my family, but...I don’t.” Dropping his hand, he smiled a bittersweet smile, eyes twinkling sadly. “Don’t let me bother you, Telki. I’m just here trying to...forget, really. You make me remember, but it’s the good bits. The ones I had mostly forgotten with everything that happened after.”

“You see? That, that right there is what I’m talking about! I want to go find the warmest fluffiest blanket and wrap you up and feed you till you pop from contentment.” One hand on her hip, and the other wagging a finger in his face, Telki’s expression was caught somewhere between frustration and exasperation. “If it helps, you can tell me about it any time you like.” Telki twitched her ears. “Aedra knows I have the ears for it.”

He blinked, face going blank in surprise before laughing merrily, the air around them seeming brighter for it, as if a cloud had lifted. Turning to her, he summoned fire to both hands momentarily before cupping them over her ears. “Best not let them fall off due to cold, then,” he teased. 

The door slammed, making them jump and glance up at a furious Mercutio, both hands alight with flame, but not for earmuff purposes. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” He sounded strong and in control, but Telki knew it was all fueled by hurt. Truly, of the three men, his trust was the most fragile. If she ever got her hands on the tart that hurt him, there wouldn’t be enough left to send to Sithis.

“Back off, you entitled nobbish prick.” Telki could honestly say she never saw such a vicious snarl on Mercutio’s face, and he practically flew down the steps, fiery fists swinging for Rommy’s face.

Not quite surprised but definitely pleased, Rommy stepped back, his arm deflecting the fellow Imperial’s blow upward, ducking below the punch and moving back. Speaking of reminding him of the good old days…

Mercutio hadn’t been training with Gideon for nothing, and even as Romulus moved back, Mercutio’s footing was already in position to knock him off-balance. Rommy tumbled, rolling through the snow and putting himself out of the other Imperial’s reach. Mercutio’s fireball was already inbound. Eyes wide in surprise, he dodged again, narrowly missing a nasty facial burn. He crouched further away, smiling eerily. His hand twitched, tossing a Frost Rune on the ground behind his opponent. Mercutio just saw his enemy still on the ground, grinning at him. He kept flinging a steady stream of fireballs, never slowing down or giving Rommy time to plan, trying to overwhelm him. However, Rommy had been fighting before Mercutio’s grandparents were conceived, and was used to thinking on his feet. Rommy waited, sheltered behind a round Ward, like they had in his youth. He never understood the wards in this province. What was the point if they were just a shield? 

There was a momentary lull as the other mage collected his magicka, and Rommy threw both hands forward, fire and frost heading together towards his opponent's feet. Ice formed, melted and crystallized in a slick sheet between them. As Mercutio backed from the stream of his spells one foot came down just as the mirror-smooth ice formed beneath it. He slipped, stumbling right onto the rune. Ice magic exploded upwards around him, coating him in cold and slowing his movements. Seeing his opening, Rommy moved, laying him out flat in the snow with nothing more than his bare fist.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Telki winced: She hated it when the Voice happened. It always felt like her jaw was going to come right off. Mercutio’s return punch was already in progress when the ground rumbled under them, knocking them both flat. Romulus’s was not a soft landing.

He shouted in surprise, falling down beside the other mage with a hand over his eye and cheek, both of which were swelling with bruise. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, and he laughed, hand falling back into the snow. Mercutio looked rather affronted at his laughter, until he got a look at a furious Telki and winced. His affronted ego would have to take a back seat.

“Are you two done? I cannot believe two grown, supposedly sensible men, are rolling around out here in the snow like a couple of half-wild heathens. And over what? Do tell. What were you even fighting about?” Telki wished the snow was a little more packed. Soft snow totally ruined the effect of a good toe tap.

Rommy laughed as he sat up, regarding her. “I never claimed to be sensible,” he reminded her, wagging a finger at her. “And sometimes, not sensible people just want to rearrange someone’s face. Or each other’s faces, as the case may be.” Glancing over at the other man, his grin widened, “Nice punch! That hurt like a daedra!”

Mercutio, officially confused, wasn’t exactly sure what answer he could give that wouldn’t further anger Telki. “Thanks, I think.” He winced again. “Yours certainly isn’t slacking. I’ll probably have a shiner at least a week, if not two.”

Rommy dusted the snow off himself, “Sam’s actually a decent hand at Restoration, if he hasn’t drunk the place dry while no one was keeping an eye on him.”

Telki looked up to the porch, momentarily giving the two up as a lost cause. “Well, I would have said Erandur and Gideon were on the job, but apparently, my little whoopsie brought the cavalry out,” and there they were, Gideon ready with shield, hammer, and full armor, while Erandur was ready with mace and fire bright hand.

Seeing her unhurt, Gideon slung his shield across his back, and hooked his hammer back on his belt. “What happened?”

“Take a wild guess.” The disappointed look Telki slung over her shoulder at the pair would have been enough to curdle milk. As it was, Mercutio was doing his best to disappear into the snowdrifts at his feet.

“This gallant took issue with my hands being where he assumed they didn’t belong,” Rommy supplied, half hoping the Nord would make the same assumption.

Gideon raised his eyebrow at that. Either Mercutio misunderstood what he saw, or he simply hadn’t let Telki handle matters her way. Either way, Merc just ensured himself a night in the doghouse. “I’m assuming everything is settled, and we can return inside?”

“Here Love, you look about frozen.” Erandur had made his way down to Telki, and wrapped his own body-warmed cloak around the sodden cloak Telki was still wearing, letting her half melt into his warmth as he led her back inside, effectively distracting her from Mercutio and the mess.

As if someone had stabbed his posterior with a small fork, Rommy jerked up and cried, “The tarts!” and ran inside, darting as nimbly around them all as if he hadn’t just been fighting in the snow and was still covered with it (though the moment he got inside his clothes began to steam out the water, remarkably like magic). Nearly sticking his head inside the oven, which smelled strongly of charred something, he reached in, a little white light flickering around him. “Ah, no, they’re good!”

“Thank--hic!--goodness,” Sam said, from where he lay on the counter, surrounded by three empty wine bottles and one in his hand. Yet another was pillowing his head. 

“Oh sweet Aedra, someone killed a distillery. No, my mistake, it’s just Sam.” Telki shook out both cloaks, hanging them as close to the fire as she dared to let them dry out.

“Looking at all these bottles, he might have emptied a distillery.” Erandur wrinkled nose. “How are you still alive?” Erandur shook his head in wonder as he sat back down at his plate, awaiting the promised tarts.

“Old family--hic!--secret,” Sam revealed, laying one long finger along his nose, “Momma put meady milk in my--hic!--bottle.”

“I would not be surprised if that were actually true,” Rommy replied, scooting a tart onto Erandur’s plate. He glanced at the cloaks and waved a hand at them, green light dancing around his fingers. They started steaming, green mist hovering over the cloth. Erandur raised his eyebrows at the easy command of magic.

“You’re hurt!” Sam cried out, reaching listlessly for his friend. “You look all manly! Let me kiss it better.”

“Ah, no, not while you’re drunk off your tail, I don’t think. How about I take care of it, hmm?” Telki had the one healing spell she knew alight in her hand.

Sam muttered to himself. “I don’t have a tail...do I have a tail? She has a tail. I’d like to see her tail better…”

“I can do it,” Rommy revealed, “I just kinda...missed it?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to him, with four matching expressions of incredulousness. “Missed it?” Erandur gently asked. 

“Pain,” he replied cheerfully. The looks didn’t change, except to gain added confusion. “It’s been a long time since someone was...brave enough to try to hit me.”

“Don’t I wish I had such an impressive reputation?” Telki huffed. “Instead, everyone seems to want to measure themselves against the ‘mighty Dragonborn’. One reason I detest using Shouts, that and I always feel like I dislocate my jaw.” Telki walked over to Rommy, poking his chest with her finger. “But the next time you want to spar, just say so! I’m sure any of the boys would be happy to exercise with you, without having to incite jealous rages.” Telki turned her bright gaze on Mercutio. “Which we will be discussing at length, later. Don’t think I forgot, boyo.”

“Well,” Rommy said, sitting next to the half-barrel full of dishes and holding a fire spell over them, a rune sinking down to hover over the surface of the water until it steamed, “it’s always more fun when they want to actually take a piece out of you. That’s why I love Skyrim so much; everything wants to take a piece out of you!” Reaching in to start scrubbing the dishes, he added, “People don’t tend to challenge me anymore, not since...well, the last ruler of my provinces frequently sent people tumbling to their deaths from a great height when challenged.”

Telki groaned, and dropped her head on Gideon’s shoulder. “Are you perchance the last sane man in Skyrim?” Gideon chuckled and patted her head.

“Funny she should ask…” Sam muttered. 

“I would be lying if I didn’t admit to wanting to test my hammer against Romulus’ skull a few times already myself.”

“Really? Seriously? Oh sweet mothering maker!” Telki turned a calculating gaze on Romulus. “The more tidbits you drop, the more I’m tempted to open the Curious Box. That, or offer you asylum from whatever nonsense you’ve gotten yourself into. Place does not sound pleasant in the least.”

Drying a plate and setting it aside, he replied, “The entire landscape has giant mushrooms. Such places are, well, not entirely unpleasant, but not pleasant, either.” 

“I didn’t know there were any Human lead provinces in Morrowind.” Erandur spoke. He was holding what Telki was sure was the fifth tart to make its way onto his plate. Mer had a sweet-tooth to rival her own.

“Oh, the Dunmer tolerate me,” he declared cheerfully. “Well, at least no one has tried to murder me for a while. That...is actually what made me so bored, probably.”

“Romulus, we have got to find you better hobbies. There’re ways to stave off boredom without sacrificing life and limb. Promise you.” Telki had started the tedious process of getting Gideon out of his armor. He could put it on faster than lightning, but getting it off always seemed to take forever. 

Sam pawed the air in their direction. “I wanna--hic!--help!”

“Well, don’t someone wish he’d stayed sober enough to help, then.” Telki snarked, stumbling back with the weight of Gideon’s pauldron. 

“I do have other hobbies,” Rommy protested, waving at Sam, “I keep him out of...some of the trouble he normally would have gotten into. I visit old friends. I...what else do I do? Find fun new things to do with old spells!” He’d banished four fish and a gecko from the washwater just in the course of the conversation, for one, but if they hadn't noticed he wasn’t going to point it out. Then he’d have to explain how they got in there.

“I’ve noticed. By the by, you’re teaching me that ward spell before you go.” Telki was working the vambrace free of the endless buckles it seemed to have holding it on. “But apparently, if you’re hunting fights just for the novelty of pain, something’s off kilter.”

“I am entirely off kilter,” he said with dignity. “It is part of my charm.” 

“It would suit me just fine if you moderated your brand of off kilter to involve less self harm. M’kay?” came the whipcrack reply. The effectiveness was rather lessened by the sound of tail hitting the floor with a thud, and the rattle of a newly freed vambrace. “But I got it free!”

Rommy waved that off negligently. “You should worry less, Kitten. There was an arena in the town I grew up in. All the boys wanted to fight in it, myself included. And when I was older, I did. That’s mostly what I missed.”

“Your Adoring Fan?” Sam teased, clasping his hands to his chest like a swooning maiden.

A wry expression crossed the Imperial’s handsome face. “I brought him with me, remember? For some reason, the man’s still crazy about me.”

“Arena fighting? Huh, that explains a lot. Still, what I said stands, I prefers me friends in one piece.” Telki shook the vambrace at him for emphasis. “Though, if you just gotta, I’d prefered if you sparred with Gideon. He at least has healy spells on tap.”

“Hey!” Erandur grabbed Mercutio’s face to hold it still, still working on the massive shiner. Apparently, it was going to take a bit to heal.

“You’ve nobody to blame but yourself, you coulda learned, but you didna!” Telki tilted her head to study the blossoming bruise on Rommy’s cheek. “So, are you going to get that, leave it, or let me fix it?”

He shrugged, still scrubbing a mixing bowl. His face started healing, apparently of its own accord. 

“You’re secretly a lost scion of the Original Septim line, admit it.” Telki was only half joking. It was the only thing that seemed to fit all the clues. Why he was on the run, a family disappointment, knew so much about Daedra, and had one mothering mage talent.

Eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, he blurted, “Well, that’s closer than anyone else has gotten. Still wrong, but closer.”

“And look! I’m still alive!” Telki giggled. Behind her, Gideon and Erandur shared a look, shaking their heads. They hadn’t puzzled him out yet, but they were fairly certain it wasn’t anything as mundane as ‘just’ a lost royal. Mercutio was still sulking over the attention Telki was giving Rommy.

“Stay that way,” Romulus advised with complete seriousness, pointing a fork at her. 

“I fully intend to.” Telki sniffed, as if that were obvious. “It’s not like I go looking for trouble.”

“You don’t have to Dear, not when it so easily finds you on its own.” Erandur didn’t even look up from where he was healing Mercutio’s face, so he missed Telki sticking her tongue out. He probably knew anyway. Gideon just chuckled and shook his head, stripping off the last of his armor.

Telki tossed her hand up to her forehead, an over-the-top expression of woe on her face, huge pleading eyes with suspicious crinkles at the corners beaming at Rommy. “Help me Romulus, it seems my men have turned on me!”

Sam rolled over on the counter and wrapped his arms around the trapped Mercutio. Rommy grinned and stood, “Can’t have that,” he declared, walking over and sweeping her into his arms before striding to the door. “You can have her back when you’re ready to appreciate her!” he called to the men. Barely muffled giggles could be heard wafting from Rommy’s chest area.

“Um, either of you care to help me out of here, so we can go collect our wife?” Mercutio felt rather like a fish in an octopus’ grip, and he worried where those six extra hands were liable to wind up. As if some god of ill luck had caught the thought, they started to wander. “Quickly!” he yelped. Erandur chuckled; he didn't think Mercutio’s voice went that high.

Meanwhile, Sam was doing his best impression of a starfish with an oyster, wrapping himself around the hapless mage, mumbling happily in his sleep around the occasional snore while Mercutio was coming unglued. He chanted “Bad touch, bad touch!” over and over, almost running it into a single repeated word, and Gideon wondered if he wouldn’t have to get his magic gauntlets to pry Sam off him. The few other patrons around were staring at them in horrified fascination or amusement, as suited their natures.

The first attempts to pull Mercutio away threatened to bring Sam right off the counter. That didn’t really seem to improve the situation, so they tried prying his arms from around Mercutio, who was getting more and more hysterical. Gideon finally decided ‘Oblivion take it” and yanked the mage to him hard, pulling Sam right off the counter and onto the floor. 

The drunken Breton sat up groggily, looking around like he didn’t know where he was. “Where’s the wench?” he demanded blurrily.

“If you meant Telki, I’ll not stop Gideon from hammering some manners into your thick skull.” Erandur answered.

Looking down at his hands as they opened and closed, he shook his head. “I don’t think that was--hic!--the pretty cat lady. Felt kinda...flat chested, actually.”

Mercutio yelped and hid behind Gideon’s broad back. Gideon outright laughed, and even Erandur chuckled. “That was Mercutio, not a woman.”

Weaving to his feet, the drunkard replied, “That explains it! I was grabbin’ the wrong parts!” Lurching toward the pair, he tried to look alluring. “Let me try again…”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s time you go sleep some of that off.” Erandur deftly turned the Breton towards his own room. “Besides, we’ve our own to tend to right now. I’m sure Romulus will be back in shortly.”

Cuddling up to the Dunmer’s arm, Sam sighed, “You can join me. Show me the benevolence of Mara, eh?”

“Sadly, I’ve other things to tend right now.” Erandur worked to free his arm, why did he ever get within reach of the man?

That was the sight that greeted a pouting Telki, still in Rommy’s arms as they made their chilly way back in the inn: There was Erandur, trying to pry Sam off his arm, Mercutio hiding behind Gideon’s back, and Gideon wondering precisely what he should do now. He wasn’t exactly looking to have a Sam leech on him, either.

Romulus took one look and started laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall for support, letting Telki slide down slowly. “No wonder they were taking so long!”

“Attack of the Sam?” Telki’s lips were twitching.

Shaking his head, eyes glowing with mirth, Rommy called to the Priest, “Do you need some help?”

“I would be most appreciative, kind sir.” Erandur’s voice was slightly strained. How it stayed as level as it did while under Sam attack was a miracle known only to Mara.

Pushing himself off the wall, Rommy tapped the tip of Telki’s nose and said quietly, “Don’t go anywhere; they never did say they were ready to appreciate you,” he reminded her, then strode over to the Dunmer and Breton. Honestly, were it not that the woman had been freezing without a cloak, he would have waited until they came outside to fetch her. “Come on, Sam,” he said, hoisting the other man over his shoulder with no apparent issues and carrying him into their room. “Oh, look! Your bed mate’s still here!” he crowed, depositing the Daedric Prince of Debauchery next to the scarecrow they had stolen. Sam cuddled up to it, beatific smile on his face. 

“Daaarliiing…” he mumbled.

While Rommy dealt with his ...whatever exactly Sam was to him, Mercutio, Erandur, and Gideon had gathered around Telki, who was leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb, smiling at them.

“Precisely what was all that about?” Gideon was right in front of her, arms folded and his no nonsense voice in full effect. Too bad Telki’d had plenty long enough to get used to it.

“You heard the man. You three don’t appreciate me properly.” Telki goaded. “So here I shall wait, until you three do.” And that was Gideon’s limit. Massive warm hands gripped her at the hips, and then slid slowly up her sides to pull her in close. 

“Oh really?” Did she mention how much she loved the rumbly voice? Because she really loved the rumbly voice. “Perhaps I should show you right here, or perhaps our room would be a better place to show you exactly how much I appreciate you?”

“So you three do appreciate, me, then?” It was really hard to keep the laughter out of her voice.

“Minx, you know it.” Telki felt Gideon growl low in his chest. It gave her the good kind of shivers. She cuddled to his chest: He was wearing his red velvet doublet, and she loved the feel of it under her cheek.

Rommy returned, giving them a once-over. “Did they prove their appreciation?” he asked Telki with feigned sternness. 

“They’ve verbally reaffirmed their dedication to my well-being and happiness. Think that’s enough for now?”

Still looking stern, he said, “Well, as long as you’re happy.”

Did he just give her that opening? He did. Was she going to take it? Oh Aedra above, but was she. Fluttering her long lashes, she all but purred from Gideon’s chest, “Well, I could be happier, but someone’s gonna have to put Sam in restraints.”

For the first time, Rommy showed signs of nervousness. “Well, he actually really likes that, so I’d advise against it.”

“Rommy,” Telki decided to take mercy and spell it out for him. “I want quality time with my guys without worrying there’ll be a Samteruption.”

He sighed, rubbing his face, still looking slightly stressed. “That is one mighty big distraction you’re--hold on.” Looking up, he raised one hand and turned toward an empty piece of floor. A large, whirling orb appeared, frightening the other guests back into their rooms to peek around the doors. It seemed to be taking an awful long time to bring whatever was being conjured, and Rommy tapped his foot impatiently. 

While Gideon didn’t actively distrust Rommy, he wasn’t taking any chances. He moved Telki and the other two behind him, hand resting on the hammer that he wore even with his most casual of clothes. Of course Erandur and Mercutio sandwiched Telki with nascent wards rippling in their hands like ethereal fountains, a huffed ‘honestly’ could be heard mixed in the sound of the Conjure. Gideon remained unruffled. “Weren’t you the one that said careless mistakes can strike even the most practiced of mages?”

Finally, the bubble vanished, leaving a tall, statuesque woman that could have been an Altmer at first glance, until one saw the slitted golden eyes. She wore gold armor that matched her skin, more skimpy than practical, and a resigned expression. “Lord Sam again?” she asked without preamble.

Romulus’s grin was ingratiating, and the daedra sighed. “Master, you can’t keep doing this to me! I always get stuck with him! Do you know what he did to me last time?”

“Bruised your knuckles with his face?” Rommy guessed.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point!” she cried, stomping over to him. She was half a head taller than him, but blushed when he took her hand and rubbed the back of her fingers against his cheek.

“Goldie, I know you go through a lot for me. If he gets too troublesome just...drop him in the snow.”

She paused, face still a lovely shade of orange with her blushes, and looked thoughtful. “Alright. As long as I have your permission.” Taking her hand back, she strode into the room where Sam was sleeping. Only, apparently he wasn’t, because he greeted her arrival with a glad cry, followed shortly by a loud smacking sound. The slap kind, not the kiss kind.

“Thank you, but we are going to have a very serious heart to heart later.” It lost some of its punch, as she was making this announcement from Gideon’s shoulder, as he wasted no time getting her to their room.

“Never look a gift Saint in the mouth,” quipped Mercutio as he closed their door with a saucy wink.

Grinning, Rommy waved goodbye as the door closed, then settled himself to watch the fire, taking the opportunity to erase the memory of this little incident from every other patron in the inn. It was never any fun when they were all afraid of him. That done, he stared back into flames for a while, but they made him remember, so he materialized a cloak and headed out into the snow.


	3. Magic Lessons and Broken Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rommy makes Telki an offer she can't refuse.
> 
>  

Telki had never been so grateful Nords were so big. It would take the homeland of near-giants to have a bed on hand large enough for the four of them. She was now comfortably sprawled across the three of them, idly tracing patterns in the light fur on Gideon’s chest. Everyone was pleasantly worn out; now was the time to think.

“Okay you two, I know you’ve been thinking on it. Tell me.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious at this point he’s no mere man, scion of Septims or no.” Gideon slowly offered. “What he is instead, though, I’ve not figured out. Something is off, but whatever it is, it isn't evil.” He chuckled. “For that matter, neither is Sam, though he is a smarmy son of a daedra.” He was idly running his hands up and down Telki’s smooth sides. It made her want to stretch and purr, especially when he watched her with that half grin and heavy lidded gaze. Man was definitely good with his hands.

“He has to be at least Daedra-Touched, but then, so are you and I.” Erandur offered, thoughtfully winding and rewinding one of Telki’s loose curls around his finger, a favorite past-time. “Any more than that, I cannot say for sure.” That deserved a kiss, just because. She loved seeing him so relaxed and soft faced; they’d come a long way from the tense and nervous wreck she first met.

“His history is what bothers me. It’s all just this side of possible, but probable? Hardly.” Mercutio was still upset. Telki would hazard it was more because even though he knew better, he still couldn't help thinking Rommy would replace him. Afterall, it’d happened before. Telki still dreamed of stomping a mudhole in that harridan and wading it dry for that alone.

“Alright, so, what does that make the bottom line? He hasn’t done a single thing you could remotely call harmful. Where does that leave us?”

“Cautious.” Erandur tugged on her curl as he said it, pulling her to him for a kiss.

“On guard.” Gideon pulled her back down to him for his.

“Well away from Sam.” Telki laughed against Mercutio’s lips as he grumbled, and then peppered his face with little kisses. He really had been treated badly today, even considering how he’d jumped feet first into that fight with Rommy for no good reason.

“Alright, alright, I promise. I shall be cautious and on guard and well away from Sam.” She glanced around at their faces, “Happy?” 

“Almost.” She wasn’t even sure which of them had said it, it was so soft and breathy.

“What now?” And they showed her what now. Teasing them had been the best. Plan. Ever.

 

~~~

 

The other patrons had come out of hiding, not entirely sure why they had been in hiding, around time for dinner. The Innkeeper had moved what few pastries remained over to a table so people could take what they wanted, adding a horker stew, roast venison, and bread trenchers for supper. A line of potatoes roasted near the fire, ready for a dollop of soured cream and butter. Knocking a door into the dug-out mines and building a basement in there had been a good investment, allowing there to be much more food in stock--useful for being snowed in. 

Goldie sat patiently in the main room, Sanguine on her lap, cuddled up to her and ignoring her long-suffering expression. The humans seemed to believe she was an Altmer, and other than one old woman loudly complaining about the amount of public affection on display these days, and didn’t people have decency anymore, they had pretty much left her alone. Another woman kept looking their way and smiling wistfully, as if she thought they were adorable. Goldie was quite ready to deposit the overly-grabby Daedric Prince onto her thighs if she persisted. Let him lavish his brand of affection on someone that actually wanted it.

Like the rest of them, Telki and her crew could not exist on love alone, and they finally emerged from their rooms. Telki took a good long look at the extremely patient Saint cradling the entirely too pleased with himself scapegrace of a Breton.

“I wanted to thank you. I hadn’t had a moment alone with my boys since we got here, thanks to him.” Telki nodded at the curled up man in her lap, who waggled his eyebrows at her and blew Mercutio a kiss.

The Golden Saint dubbed “Goldie” simply nodded her head in grave acknowledgement. “I am glad I was able to relieve you of his regard for a brief time, however, my summons is nearing its end, and my Master still has not returned. I shudder to think what Lord Sam will do when left to his own devices. He is a propagator of mischief of the worst kind.”

“That I can believe. I guess I can go hunt him down for you. About how long have I got?” Telki noticed Goldie kept getting odd looks from this one particular person, and she would return the glare. “Um, Goldie is it? Why are you two trading glares?” She tilted her head in the direction of the appreciative woman.

“That one wishes to propagate with Lord Sam. It is a horrible idea. He would be too much for her,” the daedra stated baldly.

Telki studied the woman, and traced her eyeline. “Um, Goldie? What if she’s eyeing the Saint and not the Sinner?”

“I have had enough affection for one day and wish to return to my post,” Goldie said stiffly. 

“I can understand that, I’ll hurry as fast as I can.” Telki once again grabbed the nearest cloak, this time Gideon’s, and hurried out the door to find Rommy. “Where, oh where, oh where is Rommy? Where, oh where, oh where is Rommy? Where can Rommy be?” Telki didn’t find him within eyesight of the Inn, and started looking further afield through the sheets of falling snow. She decided any mage spiffy enough to call on a Golden Saint might have some of the old Bardic spells worked out, like listening in on their own name. It was worth a shot, and singing kept her from worrying too much. A Sam off his leash was not a fun thought. In the distance, down by the water, she thought she saw a faint light moving. There was as good a place as any to look.

Romulus was walking along the beach some distance from town, watching the aurora through the clouds. Mortals would only see a slight green hue to the storm, but he could see all the way to Aetherius. He couldn’t exactly penetrate into the Void beyond that, but he could sense it, like looking beyond the lit surface of a very calm, very deep fjord.

Hearing his name made him jump, broken out of the spirling thoughts of his reverie. Blinking away Aetherius, he turned to see what Telki wanted. “I’m over here. Aaand I might be frozen to the beach.”

“Well, hurry up and unfreeze. Goldie said her time’s about up, and it took me a good ten minutes to find you. I don’t think Mercutio can handle another Sam attack.”

“Ah,” he replied, aiming a fire rune at his feet and setting it off, stepping out of the resulting explosion as if it had never happened. “You still wanted some magic lessons, correct?”

“Yup.” No hesitation, never mind what she just promised her boys. Surely she could learn magic and keep her guard up, right?

The flame flickered out as he moved forward, face filled with boyish enthusiasm as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along behind him. “Last one there has to pull Sam off Goldie!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Rommy wasn’t the only one that’d been meddling with spells. She’d tried it a few times, and only had one hiccup so far. Though really, showing up naked in this situation could be as bad as having to try to pry Sam loose...but it only happened that once. Rommy was starting to pull away, Telki gave a hearty Hail Mara...and teleported flawlessly to the front porch of the inn in a blast of lightning.

“Ah, I lost! What was that?” he asked, eyes shining in admiration as he looked her up and down. “You just vanished in a burst of ozone.”

“Modification of a lightning spell. Magic habitually changes energy to matter and back again. Why not use it to move as quickly as lightning?” Telki’s grin nearly split her face, she was so pleased with herself.

“A good point,” he admitted, opening the door for her and giving a bow. “Now, milady, you cheated fair and square, so I guess I need to fetch my dear brother.”

“Cheated? But my Lord, the method of transportation was never specified.” She fluttered as she curtsied deeply to him. “And I thank thee for corralling thy brother.”

He waved that off as they stepped inside. “The method of transportation was not specified, but it was implied, so ‘cheated fair and square.’ I’ll still get...Oh, she desummoned.” 

“Oh no. How bad is it?” Telki was honestly afraid to look.

Sam was sitting by the legs of the hairy-eyeballed woman, head in her lap as she stroked his hair, looking quite cheerful to have him there. “Not as bad as it could be...though I have to worry that he used a charm spell...No, wait, I know her. She’s been...around before.” Honestly, the woman was an occasional black out drunk with a handy habit of Moonsugar use. Just Sam’s type really. He’d stay put for a while now that he was getting the attention he craved. Glancing back at the bard, he asked, “So...magic lessons?”

“Yes, please, and thank you?” Telki bounced lightly on her toes. She felt like a little kid in a candy shop, and it was free treats Morndas.

He glanced around, then offered his arm. “What about your ever-suspicious menfolk?”

“They can ask you for their own lessons. They’re big boys. Gideon abuses that privilege, come to think of it.” Telki laid her hand lightly on the proffered arm.

Leading them to the basement, he looked around. “No one here. Good. Less Nords to annoy, and none of them will know where we are,” he actually rubbed his hands together in a universal gesture of evil glee. “I can have you all to myself.”

“Promises, promises.” Telki crinkled her nose up at him, smiling through her lashes. “So, the bubble ward first, please?”

Stepping into the middle of the room, he released her arm and faced her, his expression businesslike--an uncommon one for him, certainly. “Spherical wards used to be the universal type, but now they are mostly only practiced by elves who learned them before the new types were invented. They use more magicka, and are trickier to set up, but once you get them, they are a lot stronger, and cover your back. You don’t need to hold them with your hands, and can cast other spells while within them. There are three stages. Are you ready?”

“Yes sir, I am.” Telki tilted her head. “Though, if they’re superior, how did they ever fall out of favor in the first place?”

“Because they’re such a pain in the ass to learn.” The smirk he gave her was raw challenge. “You’re about to see.” Stepping back, a glass-like dome flickered into being around him. “Go head, try to hit me with something. Anything.” 

Telki raised an eyebrow at him, tempted to get her bow and arrows, though she thought better of it. Blessed bows enchanted to a fair thee well might be a bit overkill. She looked around, not about to dislocate her jaw to prove a point, surely there was something...and she spotted a hatchet in the corner. Near enough to her axes she should be able to toss that at his shield easily enough to let him prove his point. If he got snippy, she’d fus roh dah him. Her jaw would heal.

Testing the axe’s weight, she lined up her throw, and hit the dome to the side of him. If by some means her axe toss did get through, it still wouldn’t hurt him. He might like pain; she did not like causing it. She needn’t have worried. The axe not only didn’t penetrate, it was thrown off like it had hit a cyclone, burying itself in a pillar to the right and behind him. 

Telki’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “Okay, color me impressed, but I already knew I wanted one. So, how do I build a stage one? I’m assuming that’s where I start?”

“Kind of. Do you see how it flew back rather than just off?” he glanced back at the axe. “Look,” reaching out a hand wreathed in Illusory light, he threaded it through the shield so that she could see it spin out as if part of a soap bubble, whirling and eddying away and around him. “In the first stage, the shields are just as stationary as the ones you make, with occasional waves of power going through them. That’s how they shatter, in the lee of the wave. So these,” he set it spinning a little faster with a flick of fingers, “are designed to rotate. It deflects damage constantly. I can teach you this. You’ll also be able to expand it to cover others, or cast it around someone else.” 

“Really? I’d like to be able to guard my guys’ backs.” Telki studied the shield around him. It really was a masterpiece.

He lifted a hand and closed it into a fist, shattering the shield. “The thing is, it’s not really a dome like it looks. It’s like...a plum.” 

“Okay, that’s going to take some explaining.”

“It’d be much easier to show you, really…” Dare he? Looking right into her eyes, Rommy asked, “How much do you trust me?”

Telki had to stop and think a moment. So much about him seemed….off, like his secrets had secrets. No matter how often he hinted at them, they stayed just out of reach. A couple of times, she even felt like he might be pulling her strings. 

And yet...

And yet she did trust him. Call her crazy, but she felt as safe with him as she did in the middle of her cuddle pile. 

Seeing her answer in her eyes, he gave her a soft smile and walked behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and stepping just close enough for her to feel his body heat along her back. “Close your eyes, and let me into your magic center.” 

“So glad Sam’s not here to hear that.” Telki closed her eyes, and imagined a door for Rommy to walk through, and opened it.

As deftly as if he’d been doing this all his life, Rommy touched her magic and built a shield with it, spiraling it down out of her center, through the ground at their feet, and rising up around them to meet and merge over their heads. “This is the very first part of the first stage,” he told her, whispering the words in her ear. “Can you see it? Feel how I built it?”

“Woah, I need a moment. That was heady stuff. You feel fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” His laughter sent sparks of brightness through her mind.

“Y’know how I said I trusted you? Now I know why.” Telki smiled. “Can’t get that close to a person without knowin’ ‘em. And you are well worth the knowin’ mister.”

He drew back a little, surprised, made sure some other areas of his mind were safely tucked away, then re-entered to set the second stage, making the thing spin, whirlpools of power forming and blooming on the surface. “This is the next part, making it move. Damage can’t wear at it because it’s constantly moving, healing itself. Do you see?”

“See it, yes, follow or understand? Not completely,” Her eyes danced over the patterns, following them as they spun and whirled around her. “And it tickles!”

Stopping the rotation, he brought her back to the first stage. “Study this part for a while. I’ll stay until you see the trick of it,” he said, but withdrew from her mind, putting a bit of “distance” between them. Honestly, it was best if he didn’t get too close to mortal minds nowadays anyway, and this kitten was just curious enough to go where she shouldn’t. Romulus wasn’t at all certain he could pull her back out if she got pulled into the maelstrom of his mind.

Telki dutifully studied the warp and weft of the spell’s pattern, and how the energy flowed through her, but a part of her mind was busy with the Rommy Riddle. As practiced as he was, how could he be unprepared for the sharing? It was the first thing she noticed the first time she and Erandur melded.

“I’m going to take it down now. See if you can put it back up,” he said, not moving physically, but the shield crumbled into shining moats around them, like dust in the sunbeams.

“Just don’t laugh too hard if I fail fantastically.” Telki concentrated, and tried to slowly and carefully build it up the way he showed her. Four times the magic built around her, four times it fizzled, but each time, it built a little longer before snuffing out. Finally, on her fifth try, a wobbly ice blue shield bubbled into place.

“Great!” he enthused, sounding as excited as if he had done it himself. “Now, see the feed point at the bottom? That’s the weak point. If you see someone aiming for that, drop the shield and dodge. Most people wouldn’t know to do it, but that can funnel a spell right up along it. It would take a stupid amount of magicka to get there, but it can be done, and the shield would just focus the destruction inward.”

“Good to know “ Telki swallowed hard, and made sure to mark the spot indelibly in her memory, and was going to practice dropping and rolling when she had the room to do so. “So, what else do I need to know that I don’t know enough to ask yet?”

“Look at your hands,” he told her. She glanced down at them. 

“Okay?”

“Now summon flames to them.” Obediently, twin flames brightened in her palms, and the shield flickered out.

“Oh.”

He grinned at her tone. “You have to learn to juggle if you want to use spells with this. Now, call it up again.” 

As she built the spell again, her lips quirked up. “You just told a bard to learn to juggle. You do get the irony, yes?”

“Not at all,” he said happily. “Now, summon flames to just one hand.” Flames flickered to life in her right palm. The shield wobbled, but then firmed back into place. “Let that go and call it to the other hand.” Again the shield wobbled a little, but not as much as the flame seemed to hop from one palm to the other. Finally, when he told her to summon them to both hands again, the shield remained. 

“I did it? I did it! Ididit Ididit Ididit!” Telki lept into Rommy’s arms, hugging him tight. “Thank you! Thank you thankyou thankyou thankyou!”

Freezing for a moment as he belatedly recalled how to hug, Rommy smiled, putting his arms around her and spinning them around, happy to see her so excited. It had been so long since anyone but Sam had hugged him, and Sam’s were always half-grope, so it was more pushing away than hugging back.

“I didn’t know there was a basement because there was no basement last time I was here. Hard to know something when it didn’t exist!” That was Erandur, voice close to snapping as they came down the final steps in time to see the enthusiastic spin hug. Gideon, face furious, caught Mercutio one-handed before he could lunge.

“Telki, precisely how is this cautious or on guard?” Erandur’s voice was as flat as Sam’s disappointment with Mercutio’s equally flat chest. 

“Well, I’m no where near Sam, so there’s that?” Telki sheepishly offered as Rommy carefully set her back on her feet. “Now we talked about me learning his spells. Shoot! You said yourself you wanted to learn one, well, can you think of a safer environment?”

“Did you let any of us know? Were any of us with you? Telki, I expected better than this from you!” Gideon’s voice was rough with emotion. “I worried for you.”

“Hey,” Rommy interjected softly. “The woman just figured out a complicated magical maneuver in less than an afternoon. Let her celebrate a little.”

Gideon’s head snapped back and it took Erandur’s hand on his chest this time to stop a charge. “Consider for a moment, if you would. The woman we love more than life vanished without a word, at the same time a mysterious fellow we know precious little about disappeared, who has shown an inordinate amount of interest in her. We find her safe and whole, and being spun about by said person, in a place none of us even knew existed. We were worried, we were scared, and at least two of us are practically floating in adrenaline. Do not poke the bear, for the love of Mara.” That was as much as Erandur was capable of explaining at the moment. He hoped it was enough.

“So...you’ve been cooped up for two days and for some reason don’t trust her to take care of herself?” Rommy translated, tilting his head a little. 

“We both know you are far more than the average run-of-the-mill traveller, friend. Do not insult my intelligence, or yours.” Erandur was having none of it. They trusted Telki with their very souls, he was not going to have their concern, or the fact she’d been rather shabby to them after promising to be careful, simply brushed aside for convenience’s sake.

Rolling his eyes, Rommy presented Telki like a showgirl would a grand prize, “Dra-gon-born,” he reminded them, since they had apparently forgotten their girl wasn’t as helpless or harmless as she seemed at first glance. “Do you know what that even means? She could eat me for breakfast if she truly wanted to! Like it or not, Priest, your girlfriend was created to be a godslayer. Don’t underestimate her.” 

“I also refuse to take her safety for granted.” Erandur turned a pained gaze on Rommy. “Was it you holding her guts in after a sabercat attack, hoping you had enough skill as a healer to keep her this side of Aetherius? Or fixing her shattered leg after a ledge crumbled beneath her in a ruin on the edge of Markarth? I know precisely how invulnerable she is, and it’s not nearly invulnerable enough!” 

Romulus stared him dead in the eye, no trace of laughter or madness anywhere about him. His eyes seemed to blaze amber. “Of all the people alive, I am the last person you need to tell of invulnerability, but trust me when I tell you that if it wasn’t you, it would be someone, because she is not meant to die yet.” A thousand images darted through his patchwork mind: Dagon giant and terrible, marching on the White Gold Tower; Martin shattering the Amulet of Kings and transforming into a golden dragon; Felicia half crushed by the building she had been in looking for their son, her violet eyes pleading with him to find their child. And him, alive, after everything. Alive, and alone. 

Erandur bowed his head slightly. Truth as barefaced as that deserved respect. Here, at last, was the true essence of the man, no longer hid in riddles or mysteries. Behind him, even Mercutio stilled, seeing what Erandur saw. “Even so, I love her. I cannot and will not take her for granted. That is what love is.”

“Not taking her for granted and treating her like a child are two different things,” Rommy snorted, looking away. His gaze settled on Telki, examining her face. He was a little confused about why their behavior miffed him so much. Perhaps it was because they had no idea what she was capable of--she had no idea what she was capable of. And none of them would ever learn it if they kept wrapping her up in gauze like a porcelain doll. She had no idea, like he’d had no idea, and if he’d known ahead of time, perhaps they could have averted tragedy. 

“You remember how I demonstrated what this does?” he said, “I’d like to show them.” Telki nodded mutely. She couldn’t really explain it, but seeing Gideon mad enough words failed him squelched her own propensity to chatter. She’d seen him roaring in righteous anger, hammer and shield flashing through bandits as though they were wheat chaff, she’d seen him shouting in frustration at Mercutio after another dangerous attention-seeking stunt, but silent fury? It made her want to curl up in a corner and cry.

Slowly, breathing deeply and feeling the magic weft and warp like before, she built her plum-ward, feeling the ice blue glow rise and surround her flawlessly.

The moment he was sure she had it, and before her overprotective--if misguided--lovers could ‘interfear,’ Romulus threw four rapid-fire shots at the shield, each one clearly strong enough to obliterate an entire team of Thalmor. The lighting, fire, and frost scattered across the shield, even without its rotation, blooming over the outside and destroying or warping the wood of the floor and the rock of the ceiling above them, dazzling the eyes of everyone in the room not prepared for it. The fire and frost dissipated to mists that obscured the woman for a moment before fading, leaving her standing inside the shield, none the worse for wear. The floor outside the smooth island of stone inside the ward was crazed with stress cracks from the extreme temperatures, parts of it still steaming.

“Taa-daaah?” It was the most Telki’s locked up voice could offer. Three men stood in the doorway, completely shell shocked.

“Oh, look. She’s still in one piece,” Romulus said scathingly.

Gideon looked betrayed, but he at least seemed to be thinking. She couldn’t say the same for Mercutio. Before she even thought the weaves through, a blue shield popped up around Rommy, just in time to bounce Mercutio right off it.

Surprised, Rommy gave her an approving look. “I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve tried to teach this, but you’re the first to throw it without being shown first.” Turning back to the enraged man before him, he goaded, “See? She doesn’t need your constant mother-henning. She may like it, but honestly, stop panicking whenever she’s out of your sight for five minutes.”

“That’s not it, not completely, Rommy. I made a promise and I broke it. That’s what this is mostly about, and they’re right to be upset. I screwed up.” Telki’s voice, small for once, fell in the sudden silence like drops of water in a pool.

“Couldn’t have admitted that before bouncing me off a pillar?” Mercutio was slowly sitting up, rubbing his shoulder, strangely settled after her apology.

“You jumped,” Rommy said with absolutely no sympathy, reaching down to offer the other Imperial a hand up, “You shouldn’t complain about how or where you land.”

“Point, but do I think you need to hear about our latest trip through Avanchnzel.” Mercutio pulled up on the offered arm, dusting his legs as he went. His smile was positively mercenary. “I think you’ll find it most enlightening.”

“Mercutio!” and there was the payoff. 

“Consider it penance, and I want you right there for every word of it.” It was rare Mercutio got to wag his finger at Telki, and he took full advantage of it, grinning all the while.

“Yes, I think that’d do nicely, don’t you, Gideon?” Predatory smiles had no place on Erandur’s face; it just wasn’t right.

“Yes, yes I do.” Satisfaction laced each word, and Gideon threw a companionable arm around Erandur’s shoulder as they made their way back up. “I think I have just the right bottle of spiced mead to make this tale telling perfect, too.”

Romulus looked from one to the other quizzically. “I am starting to question the sanity of every single one of you, that’s saying something, coming from me.”

“You have no idea.”

Romulus was bent double, clutching his stomach. Unlike what he thought would be the reason just a few hours ago, it was actually because he was convulsed in laughter. He had to hold onto the edge of the fire pit to keep from falling to the ground, heedless of the fact that the hot stone should be burning his hand somewhat. 

“S-she didn’t!” he gasped, then glanced at them and burst out laughing again.

“She did. There Gideon was, all ready to go toe to toe with the gargantuan thing, and then it falls over, every single hose punctured by one of Telki’s arrows, from where she’d climbed the back wall and shot it. Gideon never got a lick in. N’chow, you think we’re overprotective. You’ve no idea.”

“Pft. You _are_ overprotective, but you don’t seem to be slowing her down,” he replied, sitting up and wiping tears from his eyes. 

“We are talking about a woman who enchanted platemail into absolute silence. Did she tell you she not only made Clavicus Vile take his dog back, but told him to sod off? That’s what we’re dealing with.” Erandur shook his head. “I sometimes wonder how we manage to keep up.”

“It is never a good idea to try to keep up with a Dragonborn. If they want you there, they’ll wait for you,” he said, shaking his head and thinking of the two he knew. Neither of them had been big on waiting, but he’d grown stronger for it.

“No, I don’t think Telki would abandon us. Do something foolhardy in an effort to protect us? That is the nightmare that keeps me awake now.” Erandur looked over at a very huffy Telki. She sat in the corner, ears low and bottom lip poked out. “Is a single word I’ve said untrue?”

“Nooo, but I don’t have to like it, now, do I?” Telki went back to sulking into her mug. She wondered if, after tonight, Rommy would ever take her seriously again. Once the stories started rolling, she sounded more and more like a divine idiot.

Rommy chuckled. “You look like a disgruntled kitten, Kitten,” he told her, thinking the way her ears were set back was absolutely adorable. “Don’t worry--I performed more stupid stunts than you will ever know, and...well, some people still like me.” 

“It’s not the liking me part I’m so worried about, it’s the taking me seriously.” Telki mumbled to her mug. 

With effort, he cleared the amusement from his face, rose, knelt next to her chair, and took her hand. “Telki, you just mastered in an afternoon something some people never grasp in their entire lives. How could I not take you seriously? Is being able to take down a Centurian all by yourself with nothing but a bow and arrow somehow a jester’s trick? Because to me, that is damned impressive.” 

Telki let a watery smile show. “Thank you for that. That makes you a rare man indeed. For some reason, no matter what, the fact I did it makes it somehow Divine Providence, and not my skill or knowledge.”

“Whoever thinks that is an idiot and needs to study some history. We had an entire line of Dragonborn, and all most of them did with their lives was push papers and order people around.” Telki had to chuckle at that, and looked over at her guys. 

Mercutio had given it up a couple hours ago and was snoozing against Gideon’s shoulder. What really made her pause were the twin knowing smirks Gideon and Erandur were wearing. That had her cutting her gaze back to Rommy’s very serious face with a whole different mindset. They really thought Rommy was interested. Oh dear. And Rommy was expecting a reply of some description. Kinda hard with all the new processing she was trying to do, especially through a sleep deprived muddle. Oh dear again.

“You sure I can’t keep you?” Telki decided to go for light. “You’re very good for my ego.”

Again, she’d surprised him. Rommy’s face went blank for a moment before he laughed, the light in the room seeming to brighten. “You sure?” he teased, “I come with an attachment,” he jerked his head toward where Sam and his new “friend” were curled up under a table around a few bottles of...he wasn’t sure what that was and didn’t really want to know. 

“Hmmm, good point.” Telki let her gaze slide back to Rommy from the tangled mess that was Sam and his sleeping buddy, openly appraising the man knelt before her. “Might still be worth it.” What the heck, she kissed his nose.

Flushing, he dropped her hand to pick up her bottle. “What exactly is in this?” he asked, giving it an incredulous look. 

“My own compilation of herbs and spices and homegrown honey from blue mountain flowers.” Telki tilted her head to look at Rommy. “Though I think what’s bugging you isn’t caused by the mead. You do realize you have more charm than any one man ought to have, and I say this after having dealt with Brynjolf.”

Feeling as if he were glowing by this point, he laughed again, a hint of nervousness entering his tone. “I’ve met Brynjolf. That’s high praise, indeed.” 

“Pretty much can’t pass through Riften without meeting that sly dog.” Telki settled on her bench, and patted next to her. “Don’t wear your knees out, and I need a leaning post. C’mere.”

Feeling somewhat unsettled by her request and doing his best not to show it, Rommy moved up onto the bench, settling in beside her and looking over the bottle consideringly. Was it the mead? He froze as she immediately moved in, snuggling close, even wedging herself under his arm “If you’re that curious, take a sip.” She yawned, the day was catching up to her. “Shouldn’t hurt, and if you’re half the magic user I think you are, you’ll be able to taste all the important bits.”

More curious than was healthy for a God of Madness, he took an experimental sip, rolling it around on his tongue the way he would wine. Wine tasting was one social event he’d not minded attending. He blinked, giving her an inquiring look. “Where on Nirn did you get nutmeg? I didn’t know they shipped it this far north!”

“I grow my own. That and the allspice. I have a conservatory for things that need the extra attention to grow.“ Telki was getting hazier. Rommy’s warmth was finishing the job of lulling her to sleep, and he still smelled delicious. Made her think of Momma’s warm kitchen on a winter’s day.

Taking another sip and tasting it carefully, he rattled off what he perceived. “Blue mountain flower honey...do the Alchemical properties infuse that, I wonder?...Juniper, snowberries...glow mushroom?” he wrinkled his nose at that last one. “Really? _Glow mushroom?_ ”

“It adds to the flavor and healing properties. I’d love to see Sam’s reaction when he realizes he can’t get drunk on it.” Her snicker turned into a yawn. “S’why I started using it as a base for my heal potions. The alcohol keeps it from freezing. Glow also makes it easier to find in a dark bag in the middle of a crypt crawl.”

“That’s insane and brilliant. I approve,” he chuckled. “Sam would hate it, though. I wish you had a barrel.” Still, if she wasn’t drunk...it wasn’t the mead. Rommy was a little nervous to check inside her head to see how much she meant what she’d said. 

“I do have a barrel, several actually, at home. Only have like, a couple bottles with me for fun, and the rest are in healies.” Her voice was getting softer as she snuggled in. “You make a very good pillow.”

“I shall add that to my impressive list of accolades,” he quipped, giving her a little squeeze. He was fairly comfortable at this point. In fact, were it not for the fact that it was physically impossible for him, he could almost fall asleep. Letting his head loll to lean against hers, he closed his eyes enough to make it look like he was drifting off. In no time, a half rumbled purr from his chest area announced to the world Telki was happily dreaming. Suppressing a smile, he closed his eyes completely. Not that he couldn’t see quite well through his eyelids, should he choose. 

“How long ‘til you think he figures it out for himself?” Gideon murmured low to Erandur, adjusting Mercutio’s zonked bulk against his side. 

“No idea. He seems pretty self aware, probably not long. How long ‘til you think Telki catches on?” Erandur stretched his legs in front of him. They were slightly achy from all the walking they’d done trying to find Telki. Even with Gideon breaking trail through the snow, it had been cold and rough going.

“Did you miss that look we got earlier?”

“N’chow, we gave the game away?” Erandur rubbed his chin in thought. “I guess that part of the bet’s done then. I still say he’ll figure it out in a day or two.”

“He may be self aware, but something tells me he has a blind spot five miles wide where his own feelings are concerned. I’d say at least a week.”

Rommy kind of wished he actually was asleep as he considered what they said. Blind spot? True, he was attracted to her--she was adorable. And he liked hearing her laugh. She surprised him, which was relatively novel nowadays. Telki was infinitely caring and genuinely wanted the best for everyone, a quality he felt like he’d lost. It was...soothing, having her around, even if seeing her with her men made him feel oddly lonely. 

“Alright, so, what do you think he’ll do once he does realize he has feelings for her?” Erandur leaned back on his elbows. “I think he’ll probably fight them tooth and nail, trying to go the whole noble route.”

“No bet, I read him that way, too. If it didn’t cause so much heartache, I’d laugh at the damned cliche.” Gideon just smiled and settled himself back against the pillar as Erandur added his weight to the other shoulder. Being the leaning post was nothing new. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. 

Sam chose that moment to sit up, blink around groggily, then clamber out from under the table. “Wa’ going on? Slumber party?” he asked them, getting to his feet with difficulty. His eyes were very bloodshot; even the normal brown of his irises seemed to have a red sheen.

“Just swapping stories and drinking mead, my friend, care to try some?” Erandur offered Sam the half bottle he had next to him with a little shake to make the contents slosh. His caring smile was all that was right and good with the world.

“Well, that’s mighty decent of you, friend!” Sam crowed, walking over and grabbing the bottle and downing it in four gulps. He frowned, looking at it in puzzlement. “That’s yummy, but...what is this, kids’ stuff?”

“Telki’s own personal brew, don’t you like it?”

“I...think I’m sober,” he said, sounding like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Possible. I’ve never had a hangover after drinking it.”

Giving them a pitiable look, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been sober since...it’s...why am I...I need a drink.” Moving faster than he ever had demonstrated, he rushed to another table, downing the contents of every bottle he found in rapid succession. By rights, he should have died right then and there, but this was Sanguine, and he was...in a class above the rest. Giving the pair a blistering look over his shoulder, he said, “Ye’r lucky you’re both dedicated to- _-hic!-_ -Aedra.” 

Gideon and Erandur both gave him blissfully innocent ‘who me?’ looks. 

Swaying, he lurched over to where his brother was still pretending to sleep. “Aww,” he said, plopping down next to Rommy. “Cuddle puddle,” he mumbled, putting his arms around them both and setting his head on Rommy’s shoulder, closing his eyes and instantly starting to snore, complete with drool. 

Gideon and Erandur waited a few minutes more before allowing themselves to quietly laugh themselves to sleep, smiles still on their faces.

A moment passed. Two. Then Rommy opened his eyes, looking out into the darkness of the room as the fires all died, one by one. “You skeevy bastard,” he said flatly to his brother, who looked up at him through equally glowing red eyes. “You knew.” 

Sanguine smiled serenely. “Of course.”


	4. A Little Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are had and stories are shared, but are they all the words, and are they all the right words?

Erandur may have lived most of his life in the Pale, but he still felt the cold quicker than a native born Nord like Gideon. So it was no surprise he woke first to the cold, silent room. Well, silent except for the rattling snores he’d come to associate with Sam.

Stoking the fires back to life lit up the place enough to see the bench across from them was empty. Worried, he checked their bed first. Seeing Telki curled up and happily dreaming allowed the half-formed panic to subside. Never let it be said he couldn’t learn from his mistakes.

Waking Gideon to help him move Merc, they both poured the sleeping Imperial into bed next to Telki. It was somewhat adorable watching the two curl around each other without waking, the blankets swirling in a nest around them.

“Okay, what are you thinking and why aren’t we crawling into bed with them?” Gideon was not one to beat about the bush, but rather run right over it.

“I don’t think Romulus was as asleep as we thought.” Erandur hazarded. “Someone put Telki to bed.”

“And he couldn’t have woken up to the cold and put her to bed?”

Erandur started to say something, and then cocked his head to actually think about it. “Alright, that is possible. Imperials are even more cold-natured than I am.” Here he smirked at Mercutio. “When they aren’t wearing heat enchants.”

“In any case,” he continued, “Romulus is nowhere to be found in the inn. That, more than anything else, has me wondering if he overheard us. He has a propensity for wandering off when feelings happen.”

“Well then, let’s go find him. I think we need to actually talk.” Gideon secured his hammer to his belt and his shield to his back, throwing his cloak over both, and waited impatiently by the door for Erandur to grab his own mace and cloak. Both men then headed out into the night to find Romulus.

The snow was--impossibly--falling harder, though the wind was all but absent, leaving the puffs of downy white to settle wherever they fell. The harbor was frozen over, but there was the suggestion that the snow had fallen over a trail sometime in the past hour.

With the seasoned practice of a man long used to reading trails and combat scenes, Gideon fell to following the quickly disappearing tracks Romulus had left, using his shield as a snowplow as he went. The trail wandered so much and haphazardly, Gideon started to wonder about the man’s mental health, or if the storm was proving too much for him. It even petered out once or twice, making it hard to figure out which way he went.

“Look there,” called Erandur. “Does that look like a fresh trail headed towards Nightcaller?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Maybe he needed to commune with Mara to figure himself out?” Even Erandur sounded doubtful on that sketchy idea.

“Oh, there will definitely be a heart to heart had tonight.” Gideon bulled his way up the path, shoving snow to either side as high as his head in places. It felt like forever before they reached the door, the front of which was miraculously free of snow, enabling them to slip inside without needing to fight the elements. Both Erandur and Gideon went stone still at the soft voice filling the air with so much pain.

Rommy was sitting in the middle of the front pew, tossing something lightly up in the air and catching it without really looking at anything. The object glinted in the candlelight as it rose up and down, being caught easily in his graceful hand. “You really do like toying with us, don’t you? Didn’t you get your fill of that last time? What is it about me you hate so much anyway?” he muttered, barely audible in the empty chapel. The only sound besides a slight metallic ringing every time the object whirled into the air was the susurration of snow hitting the stone outside.

Erandur and Gideon shared a look, then moved purposefully, one to either side of him, bookending him between their warmth, and waiting to let Romulus start the dialog. He sighed instead, catching the object and simply holding it in his fist, not looking at either of them.

“When you arrest people, generally the conversation starts with ‘Halt, criminal scum!’” he informed the figures on either side, doing a credible imitation of the guards in Cyrodiil.

“Probably, but conversations between friends start with. ‘How can I help?’”

“We’re friends now? When did that happen?” he inquired, a note of real surprise in his voice as he continued to stare straight forward.

“You think we share the good mead with just anyone?” Gideon cheerfully informed him.

“You shared it with Sam,” he pointed out.

Gideon shrugged, “As you said, he comes attached.” He leaned back, bumping shoulders lightly with Romulus as he did. “Besides, you gave us the idea for the prank. Admit it, you enjoyed it.”

“Actually, Sam sober is a terrible idea. You do not want that man’s brain working at full capacity,” he warned them, entirely honest. The last time Sanguine was sober he had launched an attack on Argonia until the Hist trees bribed him with enough sap to go away. This, of course, had been his plan all along.

“Scarily enough, I can see that.” Erandur hummed thoughtfully. “As to the other thing we overheard as we came in, do you want my thoughts on it?” He gave Romulus a crinkly side eye. “And yes, you have a choice.”

“Then no, I don’t,” he replied bluntly, looking down at his clenched fist.

“Then we’ll be happy to just listen, then.” Gideon offered from the other side.

“Nothing to say,” he averred, rising quickly and moving for the door.

“Did it never occur to you, that perhaps if you stopped running, and accepted what you’re being offered, it wouldn’t hurt so damn much?” Gideon’s voice followed him like a particularly annoying ghost.

The door shook as Rommy tried to open it, but it seemed to have swollen shut. He sighed, leaning his head against it. “Come on,” he growled, pounding on it lightly with one hand.

“Seems someone thinks you need to have this conversation.” Erandur wondered at the sealed door. Time enough to sort that out later, he had a sneaking suspicion in any case.

He turned, leaning his back against the door and glaring at them both. “I don’t,” he growled, throwing the thing up once more and catching it, as if he couldn’t help the gesture. The enchantment on it flickered  along its golden surface.

“If you didn’t, would you be this upset?” Erandur shrugged helplessly from where he was still sitting, but turned so he could talk to Romulus. “Loss is pretty inevitable. What you are doing to yourself is missing out on the parts that makes that loss tolerable in the first place.” He eyed the ring Romulus kept flipping. “Would you trade away one moment, even knowing what followed? Why would you deny yourself that sort of comfort now?”

His eyes glowed briefly, and he whirled, punching the door, “You call this _tolerable_?” he snarled, glaring at the shattered crater in the wooden barrier. The Mad God was close to taking over, but the Aedric temple helped. Not that he wouldn’t have welcomed Him at this point, but...No, he couldn’t let Him out again. He’d lost so many of his people last time he’d lost himself to the madness, and every time it happened, he lost a little more of the man he used to be.

“No, because you won’t let us help! You’re trying to bear it by yourself. Nobody was meant to walk alone. Yet here you are, trying, and it is tearing you apart.” Erandur saw the crater, and he promised himself the nervous breakdown that he fully deserved after he dealt with the man capable of putting that kind of hole in him, first. If he freaked out now, they’d lose Romulus, and quite possibly, their lives. He wished Telki were here.

As if answering his silent prayer, a familiar knock came through the cratered door. Knock-knock-a-knock-knock . Knock. Knock.

Rommy froze as if paralyzed, simply staring at the door a moment before pulling his bloodied knuckles back from the divot he’d left there (damned Aedric shields), his hand automatically losing its grip on the ring. It bounced across the floor, the small, metallic ringing it made as it hit the cobbles bell-like. He watched it as though his life depended on it.

“Excuse me, I’m missing a pair of knuckleheads and an Imp-ossible mage. Anyone here seen ‘em?” Telki pushed the door open, and took in the tableau before her. She let her eyes follow to the tiny ring everyone seemed to be staring at. Silently, she picked it up, turned it over in her hand, and offered it back to Rommy with a questioning look.

Snapping the bones of his hand back into place with absolutely no expression on his face, he reached out and took the ring, eyes boring into hers a moment. “Thank you,” he said softly, heading out the door.

“Oh no you don’t, you do not get to run away!” Telki stomped her foot. “I don’t get quiet for just anybody, boyo!”

He paused, snow swirling in complicated eddies around him. “I highly doubt you get quiet for much,” he sighed, not actually teasing her or meaning it cruelly. She just liked to talk.

“I would for you, if you’d talk to me?”

Shoulders slumping as if someone had let the air out of him, he sighed again, not facing them. “What do you want?”  With his current luck, a storm worthy of Talos would descend upon him if he tried to take another step anyway.

“Let’s start with why you had to snap your hand back together, and work from there? I’ll even send the boys back to the inn, if it’d help.”

“What’s the point? They would know everything you do within a week, anyway,” he said, sounding just a tad bitter about it.

“Oh really? Why would I tell them something that didn’t concern them?”

That did get a small smile out of him, and for the first time since walking out the door he gave her a jaundiced look, “When you’re involved, everything concerns them.”

“They might think so; I do not, and it’ll be my judgment being used, thank you.” Telki sniffed daintily, her answer as prim as any proper lady of Cyrodiil.

“Well, in answer to your first question, I became very angry at the door, and so I don’t think they would be very comfortable leaving you with me right now,” he answered, regarding his hand. After a moment, he manipulated the bones a bit more, Healing them.

“Boys, I know it’s hard, but would you please trust my judgement this once?”

“Compromise? We wait there where the rocks are? We’ll be out of the wind, but close enough if something happens,” Erandur offered and Gideon nodded. They both knew Telki had the better chance of getting to the meat of the matter. People skills were her strongest suit. They also knew they’d never forgive themselves if the unthinkable happened, and they weren’t there.

“Works for me. Rommy?” Telki looked at him with all the hope in her heart. He had to agree.

“I don’t much care what they do,” he replied morosely.

“As long as you’ll talk to me, neither do I, come inside where it’s a bit more comfortable, okay?” Telki tugged on his arm, and the boys filed out to wait by the rocks.

“I’d...really rather talk out here,” he protested, loath to go back in the shrine. The chaos that made up half his being now was contained there, it was true, but he also felt stifled, and watched. “And I can’t guarantee I’ll answer everything you ask, but you can ask.”

“Then help me drag a bench out here. We’re going to be a while, and I refuse to sit on cold stone.”

Instead, he set a fire rune down on the stone, the heat it produced turning the snow to steam instantly. Giving it a moment he collapsed onto it, setting it off without apparently harming him, and patted the stone beside him. “See? Nice and toasty.”

“The list just keeps growing.” She murmured before folding herself neatly down beside him, snuggling herself into his side. “So, the boys think you’re interested, you seem interested, but you’re balking, and I have a feeling it involves that ring. How much you willing to share on that?”

There was a long pause. “You know,” he said at last, “when I was still a boy I hated it when my tutor asked open-ended questions. Can you try something a little more specific?”

“Why were you running from Gideon and Erandur?”

“I did not run,” he said with immense dignity. “There was some walking, and a little shuffling, but no running.”

“Okay, why were you shuffling and walking away from Gideon and Erandur?” Telki may have been smiling at his affronted dignity.

“They wanted to interrogate me and I wasn’t feeling particularly gregarious,” he answered.

“Hmm, what were they wanting to interrogate you about?”

“Your Priest wanted to impart me with the wisdom of his goddess. Specifically, he wanted to know if I wanted to hear his thoughts on the matter. I did not.” He sighed, stretching out his legs and looking at his feet, as a small child might when they haven’t quite associated the things they step on with the ones they can wiggle.

“I bet I know what it was, too.” Telki looked lost in a memory, and not a pleasant one. She shook it off. “But, this isn’t about me, it’s about you, and trying to help you out. You’re so sad, I can tell even when you try your hardest to hide it.”

Rommy paused, noticing her moment of preoccupation. “What were you remembering?” he inquired softly.

“A husband and wife we found dead on the road. Bandits had happened. I was so mad. I had found the woman’s journal, and she’d been worried for her husband, so she insisted on going along.

“They were so in love, and if Mara was so great, why did she let that happen? And it was Erandur that helped me deal with it. He said ‘Mara cannot change what people decide to do, she can just help us find the people willing to make it easier along the way. She gives us each other to lean on.’

“So yeah, maybe I'm some big bad destiny-bound Dragonborn, but it’s Mara that put people like you in my path, and Mercutio, and Erandur, and Gideon to help me deal with getting through it all.” Telki tilted her head up to look at him. “I can’t explain it like he can, but did it make any sense to you?”

He was regarding her with wide eyes. “Up until the part about Mara putting me in particular in your path, yes.”

“Pfft, you may be the single most important person she put in my path.” She teased. “Who else is gonna teach me the uber-spells to protect myself and My Boys?”

Snorting, he lay back on the stone, looking up at where a wisp of sky shone briefly through the clouds before being obscured again. It didn't matter; he could still see everything. All the great wonder and the emptiness beyond.

Telki had shifted with Rommy, now propped partially on his chest. “Please don’t just disappear on me.”

Looking up into her face, he said softly, simply, “I’m not going to stay, you know. No matter what you want, or even what I want, I can’t stay.”

“Can you come back?”

He shifted uneasily. “Maybe. But…” he sighed. He didn’t age. There was a limited window to seeing her at all, even sporadically. And...it really was best for everyone if they didn’t get that far. “You can ask me one question. If I can answer it, I will, even if I don’t want to,” he promised. He had no idea why he said that. Madness, probably.

“Why are you denying yourself the one thing you so obviously need?”

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. That would be what she asked, wouldn’t it? The ring dug into his hand as his fist tightened around it. Opening his eyes, he made himself look at her. “Because I had it once and I lost it horribly.”

Telki mulled that over, giving it the attention it deserved. “Did it never occur to you that we may be the balm you need to help deal with that?”

“I would break you all very badly,” he informed her matter-of-factly. “You’re not the only one with...a bit of a past that can come back--or chase you all over--or materialize thirty feet high swinging a mace.”

“Hmmm.” Telki thought that through. “Weren’t you the one that said I was practically impervious, at least as long as I had a purpose? Or something to that effect. Yes, you might break me, or you might save me, or maybe we can save each other. That is all going to depend on the choices we make. Unless you’re hiding foresight in your pockets, you don’t know any more than I do. But I know I enjoy your company, and I’m pretty sure you enjoy mine. Don’t forget that little glimpse you gave me. I KNOW you’re worth the risk.” Telki was prodding his chest by that point, trying to drive her point home.

He caught her hand in his recently broken one, the ring digging into both of them now. “You might live through it,” he told her, lifting his other hand and pressing lightly against her chest, “but will this?” The hand lifted to her head, “Or this?” His eyes grew distant gazing up into hers, then passed them into her mind, and he added, “What would it do to you,I wonder?”

Telki wasn’t going to back down. Her jaw was set and her voice was steady. “You are worth the risk, and I refuse to allow such a strong man, such a caring man, to continue to let fear make his decisions for him.”

“I’m not afraid for me, Kitten,” he said, brushing some of her hair away from her face. “Do you know what happened to…” he trailed off and sighed, hand falling back beside him. “I really, really don’t want to go through that again, Telki, and this time I’d be hurting more than just one person. You mean everything to those knuckleheads.”

“They mean everything to me, too. That’s the thing about love, it multiplies what’s there. Should something happen to me, the loss would be divided by them, comforting each other. Who is there to catch you, though?”

He thought about that a moment. “You don't love me, Kitten, you just met me.”

“Come inside, you tell me.” Telki dared him, offering him her hand and an open door, giving him pause. It was possible. One of the reasons people just didn’t do what she’d so casually done--touching another person’s soul like that--was because you were able to see their true selves. He’d avoided doing that not just out of professional courtesy.

Pushing her up gently, he shook his head as he sat up. “I’m not...I don’t think...I don’t know if I can do this,” he finally got out.

“I just want to curl up around you right now until you figure it out. It physically pains me seeing you like this.”

“You’d freeze to death waiting,” he sighed, staring out over the cliff to the sea.

“I’ll figure out those fire runes of yours. Apparently, I’ll have time.” She curled herself back under his arm. “That is, if Paarthurnax wasn’t pulling my leg.”

“What, with the longevity of Dragonborn? You don’t need to worry about that. The line of Septims alone show that you’ll probably live long passed other people.” There was a moment before he added, “Though you do all seem to get yourselves into trouble long before you have a chance to be doting grandparents.”

“Added to the natural inclination of Khajiit, yep, I’m up the creek without a paddle. But like the guy falling off the Throat of the World, ‘so far, so good.’” Telki budged under his chin with her head.  “So, willing to see where this particular trail will go? You know you’re going to miss me already.”

Closing his eyes against the night, Rommy wrapped his arms around her. “If you really want, I’ll show you where it went before, and then maybe you’ll understand.”

“Make me a promise. Okay?” Telki had a pretty good idea that what she was in for was horrific. Still, he was worth it. She knew it, obviously her guys had figured it out, too (why else would Erandur try to give his ‘Mara sends you the people you need’ speech?). 

“Promise is such a strong word,” he winced.

“Honey, we both know you’re about to show me your worst nightmare. If I can stand it, or help you stand it, I want you to give us a try, please?”

Rommy nearly groaned. She would. “There’s...another reason. And it has to do with my...subjects. You are needed here. You live here. You could never come back with me, and I have to go back.”

“Well, obviously, you don’t stay there all the time, it’s not like I don’t understand someone having to hare off after responsibilities. You should see my rotation schedule for my youngens.”

Great Saints and Seducers, of course she would have children. He sent a little sideways glare at the temple, as if it was Mara’s fault. The statue smiled at him benignly through the door. Thinking for a moment, he finally capitulated slightly. “If I show you, and you don’t...turn away, then I promise to visit, and see what happens. Is that acceptable?” Telki smiled at him as if he’d just given her both Masser and Secunda. She wrapped both arms tightly around his waist.

“Just so’s y’know. I accept your terms. Be prepared to visit as bloomin’ often as possible.

With a shudder, he found the door in his mind, ensured the one next to it was tightly sealed, and pulled her in.

~~~

_The city was unrecognizable. Teetering white stone burned and charred, tumbling into the streets in sudden avalanches as they overbalanced. People were screaming everywhere, and Mar--his mind shied from the name. He couldn’t think on that. He couldn’t stop to remember that he’d just lost his best friend right before his eyes, the man that had given his life some kind of purpose besides mere survival and the well-being of his family. He had to find them. The attack was over; they were safe._

_Figures darted toward him, tried to speak with him, but he ignored them as he went from supposed safe haven to safe haven, not finding them. No one had seen them. They were supposed to be elsewhere. No, that had been destroyed; all the people had been moved._

_Where were they?_

_Night fell as he searched. Looters came out--they always did. There weren’t enough guards in the world to stop people from acting on their worst nature when they were desperate. People ran out of still-burning houses with their arms full of ornaments, others simply hauling blankets full of food or provisions. He saw a youngish Bosmer rip something right out of the hands of an older human woman. That one went down with a dagger in his throat. Others fell to his magic as the looting turned to rioting, and frightened people finally got the courage to flee the crumbling city, seeking some kind of organization they weren’t likely to get. There was a hole in the prison wall, and escaped criminals caused chaos as they hid themselves amongst the frightened populus. A man tried to waylay him, demanding...something. He wasn’t listening. Not until the man used the sword in his hand, anyway. Blocking with a dagger, he threw fire right into the mugger’s face, sending him screaming back. Romulus didn’t wait to see if he lived or died, he needed to keep moving. There was only one more place they could be._

_He turned the corner and skidded to a halt, falling to his knees in shock._

_Loose bits of thatch danced around in a dervish of wind before falling limply onto the cobbles of the street, joining the fallen littered about like so many abandoned toy soldiers. The building wasn’t there. A pile of rubble with something vaguely like a footprint along the outside lay where the pottery had been. Where their house had been was just...blocks. And stones. He didn’t realize he was digging in them until he heard her call his name. Ducking under some beams that wouldn’t hold for very much longer, he saw her, and his heart stopped._

_“Felicia!” he screamed, kneeling next to her. Her hand moved vaguely in his direction and he grasped it, instinctively going to block off her pain with a spell. He wasn’t a healer, he didn’t know how to fix this. Her grey skin had an ashen hue he’d never seen before, her violet eyes were cloudy. A cut on her brow wept dried blood into hair nearly the same shade. It wasn’t nearly enough to account for the overpowering tang of copper in the air._

_“R...Rommy,” she whispered. “Did…” she gasped, the rock that covered her from her belly down making it difficult to breath. Bloodied foam specked along her lips. “Did you find him?”_

_No. No no no no. “What?” he got out, his mind numb, unable to comprehend her words._

_“He...ran in here. He was scared,” she coughed. More red flecked her lips. “The safe house was destroyed, and our guards were...I got us away, but he had to run.”_

_Quickly looking around, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment. There was nothing here. Five years of toil and love and struggle, getting disowned by his family and Felicia giving up her life with the Guild, and there was nothing left but rubble and singed rock. Opening his eyes again, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “He’s right here,” he lied, lifting his other hand to cast Detect Life. There were no signs, not even the mice they could never fully evict. “It’s not safe in here, so he’s outside. M-Martin’s got him.”_

_A small smile flickered across her face. “Oh, good. Do take care of him, hmm? You’ve always been...so...wayward…”_

_“Felicia?” he whispered, vision burring. “Felicia?” Her hand was cold. Her hands were never cold. She was Dunmer; she was like a furnace all the time. He needed to warm her. Pulling her gently against him, careful not to jostle the rocks too much and hurt her, he whispered, “Wake up.”_

_Tears blurred out his vision; he couldn’t see. At length he realized it was because the sun had fully set, and the fires were out. It should be raining, he thought. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from but it was there. He glanced up, seeing the stars through a hole above them, but something about seeing them seemed so wrong. They were so bright, and cold, winking down at him. They were beautiful, and something about that struck him as very wrong. Bringing his eyes back down, he sat there with her, enveloped in darkness._

_There was a sound behind him after some time had passed. He wasn’t sure how much, it all ran together. One never-ending nightmare. He could see again, though. It was a clear, white light. A bird was singing somewhere._

_“Romulus?” someone said. He recognized the voice, but he wasn’t able to register more than that. Feminine, soft, and raspy, as if she had been crying._

_“Did you find my son?” he asked woodenly. His throat hurt. Vaguely, he realized some of the screaming he’d been hearing all night had been awfully close by. How odd, he could have sworn the street was deserted._

_There was a very long pause. Strange to be aware of it after losing time for so long. It was as if reality was shifting slightly. A dark chasm opened in his mind, yawning before him. He teetered on the edge of it, gazing in. Something in there beckoned him._

_“I’m so sorry, Romulus.”_

~~~

Romulus came to himself feeling as if his chest would be crushed by the desperate clinging arms of one Telki Tailkinker. It took him a moment to puzzle out the verbal barrage currently being sobbed into his increasingly wet chest. “Never never never again. Not ever, you will not be going through that ever again if I can help it. I will browbeat all Nine Divines if I have to, take a stick to every single last Daedra, but you will _not_ go through that again. You hear me? You. Are. Mine.” Telki had pulled herself up face to face to deliver that last bit of important information.

He blinked at her in bewilderment, vaguely aware that his own cheeks were wet. Why in the names of all his Daedric brothers and sisters was she clinging to him rather than running off to her men for comfort?

“Telki…” he said slowly, unsure if she understood or not. “I’m hers. Part of me will always be hers.” And part of him would always be in that chasm her loss had ripped in him.

“Pfft. And I’m Gideon’s, and Erandur’s, and Merc’s and yours. Love don’t have limits, does it?”

A little bit of amusement entered his eyes. “You sure do get attached quickly.” Reaching up, he brushed her curls off her forehead. “You sure everything is alright up here?” Just to be sure, he checked. She was unlikely to be his vassal anytime soon, though she certainly was quirky.

“Probably not, I did spend an interesting afternoon in Pelagius’ head. But my cousin Rihandi would assure you I wasn’t right well before that ever happened.”

“I’m still trying to figure out how you can be insane without being, well, insane,” he said, very confused.

“Is it that big of a problem? I’m me, that’s all I can tell you for sure. That, and you promised to give us a try.” Telki’s smile dimmed. Was he trying to weasel out of it? Was he not interested after all?

He tilted his head, regarding her. “Why don’t we start with breakfast? It’s about dawn.”

“Dast it, and I used all the bacon yesterday. Wanna help me catch a horker?”

He sputtered. “ _Catch a horker_?” he echoed.

“Well, we’ll have to butcher it, too. Do you know how to render bacon?”

Looking vaguely horrified, he blurted, “I will summon a Dremora Merchant and _buy_ you bacon if you never ask me that again.”

“Deal.” Telki eyed him curiously. “Just how much truck do you keep with Daedra? I mean, you summoned a Saint for pity’s sake.”

Pretending to be offended, he said “Can’t a man just like to Conjure things? Maybe some days I want a dog, so I summon a Familiar. Some days I need bacon, so I summon a Merchant. Is that so wrong?”

Telki squeezed him comfortingly. “Love, there’s a big difference between summoning an ethereal hound, and summoning an entity that might take exception to the summons, and rip your heart clean out your chest if you get the pronunciation just wrong enough.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And don’t pretend mistakes can’t happen.”

“Not to me!” he said cheerfully. The worst he could do was accidently summon one of Dagon’s, and he’d killed half of them at one point or another, so they tended to run in the other direction before he covered them with flower crowns or lace or something. “I don’t recommend calling Daedroths, though. Touchy subject.”

Telki shook her head. “Let’s get on with the bacon procurement. I’m sure Gideon’s stomach thinks his throat’s been cut by this point.”

“As long as Giddy is assured that _your_ throat hasn’t been cut, and comes up here looking to avenge you…” he paused, shaking his head. “I don’t like my own mental images. Anyway, this stone is freezing my rear, and we still have some walking ahead. Shall we?”

“Well I tried to get you to help me get a bench, but no.” Telki huffed as she got up and offered a hand (or both) to help Rommy up. “Yes, let’s assure my Boys all’s right with our world and all that. And bacon.”

Rising, a thought occurred to him, and he looked at her nervously. “Um...about the Boys…”

Telki quirked a curious eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Do you...I mean...I’m not altogether certain I’m ready for regular...Um…” His was struggling so badly with how to word this question. Finally, he sighed and just dove in with both feet. “It has been a very, very long time since I had sex at all, and while I don’t object in principle...Oh, Saints...I’m not sure I’m ready to try that just yet.”

“If you just want a slow relationship with me, that’s fine. Gideon is as straight as they come. He thinks of Erandur and Mercutio more like brothers than anything else...and not a ‘Sam’ sort of brother, either. Does that help straighten your worries out? They know I love them, and I’m not going to leave them just to be with you. ” Telki winked at him. “I’m a past master at time management.”

Giving her a look that stated he clearly wondered what he had gotten himself into, he summoned a Dremora Merchant into the snow. The daedra looked annoyed for a moment, then his expression cleared to one of startled respect when he saw just who had summoned him. “My Lord! Is there something you need?”

“Mostly, for people to quit calling me that,” he grumbled. Turning to Telki, he waved a hand. “Ask for whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Love.” She kissed his cheek before turning to the Dremora, whose expression flashed to speculative for a moment, eyes darting between the pair. “Thank you for coming. Do you perhaps have enough horker bacon on hand to choke a herd of mammoths? And some sage, thyme, and rosemary? Some hickory chips for the fire would be nice.” She gave the poor Dremora her best “pretty please” smile. “Do you have all that perchance?”

Bending double so that his nose nearly got dunked in a drift, the Dremora sputtered that he could get it, where would they like it? He would deliver for no extra fee, of course! Rommy waved his hand tiredly, his other rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Deliver it to the inn below us, please. Put it on my tab.”

“Of course, sir!” he replied, then vanished as if he couldn’t do so fast enough.

“It’ll probably be there by the time we get back,” Rommy told her.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” Telki looked puzzled, tapping a finger against her teeth in thought.

“What feat shall I perform next?” he asked, making a joke of it. “Would you like to slide down the hill on a daedric dogsled? I hope not, because I’m not actually sure if those exist,” he added quickly.

Telki grabbed his nearest arm, hugging it to her tightly. “Nah, shield sliding is much more fun. How about, give me a proper kiss?” Telki dared from lowered fluttering lids. “How’s your courage feeling about that?”

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness there. “I just...relived that. Maybe later?”

“Yeah, you did, didn’t you. Why did you do that?” Telki hugged his arm closer to her. “Why did you think that would make me want to run?”

“Because that’s what you have to contend with. I might never get over that. It’s been…And...did you feel it? I lost myself that day. I started to go mad,” he stopped himself there. He daren’t go further.

Telki snorted, angry all over again. “You don’t ‘get over’ missing someone! You don’t ‘get over’ loving someone. You simply find people to help you deal with it, and learn to add to those you love. That is Mara’s gift, to always have someone there to love you and remind you that you are worth being loved.”

Passing the rocks. Telki waved gaily at her guys. They’d managed to make themselves a proper little camp, including a cheerful firepit. “Hey darlins! Let’s head back to the inn for breakfast, sound good?”

Regarding what they had set up, Rommy muttered, “And they call me a Conjuror.” Camping had never been his strong suit.

The men looked up at her call, Gideon sighed, and passed a small bag over to Erandur, who folded it into his belt, smirking. “About time, I’ve been listening to his stomach growl for the past half hour.” Telki took a moment to enjoy the sight of Her Boys walking down to her. They moved easily, and were practically poetry in motion. How’d she get so lucky?

“Well then, we’d best hustle. I’ve still got to cook once we get there. Shall we?” Telki offered her other arm, both of them moved to take it at the same time, but Gideon’s bulk was more than Erandur could work around.

Gideon budged Erandur “Why don’t you go buy something with my money?”

“Eggs! I totally forgot to order eggs!”

“What, is there a ‘speak with chickens’ shout you didn’t share?” Erandur was grinning at her.

‘No, silly, the Master Conjuror here summoned a merchant. There should be bacon aplenty waiting on us, but I forgot eggs. So.” Telki unlatched long enough to shoo Erandur towards town. “Go get eggs!”

With that, they ambled down to Dawnstar, which resembled so many mounds of white at this point. By the time they made it back to the inn, three of the four were freezing and the fourth was doing a pretty good impression of it.

Safely inside the inn, Mercutio stretched, reveling in the comfort of a warm bed and the feel of one of his partners beside him. He could hear Gideon and Telki talking about breakfast; with just a bit of imagination, he could imagine they were back at the RiverWood farmhouse. Then he heard Erandur talking, and his eyes snapped open. If the three of them were up...? Slowly, dreading what he was about to see, Mercutio turned his head.

Sam smiled up at him, not a trace of guilt on his smug face. “Hello, Muffin,” he said, snuggling.

Telki and Erandur both jumped a foot at Mercutio’s yodeling wail of horror. Gideon was already moving towards the room.

“What the what?” Telki was about to go after Gideon.

Erandur looked around. “Rommy, who was watching Sam?”

Rommy followed his look around with one of his own. “Her,” he said, pointing to the passed-out-drunk lady under one of the benches.

“Oh no! Poor Mercutio!”

“Do I need to get a bucket of snow for you two?” Gideon leaned against the doorframe, trying mightily not to laugh at poor Mercutio’s plight. Sam was wrapped around him like a clinging vine, but for once, his hands were plainly in sight and not groping. Wonders never ceased.

Sam spotted Rommy behind the big Nord and brightened considerably. “Brother! You made it back!”

“Could someone please extricate me now? This passed uncomfortable ages ago.” Mercutio tried valiantly to wriggle free of Sam’s grip. Sam just hugged him harder, pouting up at him.

Deciding he should probably step in before hands or--Aedra forbid--weapons got involved, Rommy shot a green light at the Breton, paralyzing him mid-pout, walking over and peeling him off the other Imperial like a barnacle. “He must really like you,” he told the other man, awkwardly hefting his friend up. Glancing at Gideon, he said, “He’s kinda unwieldy like this. Care to take the feet?”

“My pleasure. His room?” Gideon deftly grabbed Sam’s paralyzed feet, and followed Rommy’s lead.

“Just a bench, I think” he replied. “That way we can keep an eye on him. He’ll use invisibility spells if he thinks he can get away with it.”

“Insistent devil.”

“You really don’t know the half of it,” Rommy laughed, placing Sam more gently than he deserved on a padded bench and patting his hair back into place. “You get terrible bedhead. Now,” he said, glancing up at Telki. “I’m sure they’re curious. I’ll get breakfast started, you tell them what you think they need to know.”

Telki nodded, rather bowled over by the trust he just placed with her. “Wow, you know how to overwhelm a girl. Are you sure you’d rather not tell them what you _want_ them to know?”

“I’d...actually prefer not go over it again myself, if that’s all the same to you,” he said bluntly.

Telki huffed and pouted, stamping a foot. “As if that’s any of their business! Really!” Telki rolled her eyes.

Flickering a glance at Erandur, whose thoughts had been loud and clear back in the Temple, he said magnanimously, “Still, I did sort of...leave a dent in something I shouldn’t have. They have licence to worry. If they have questions, I don’t mind so much if you answer them. I just don’t want to have to talk about it myself just yet.” Touching her cheek briefly, he said, “I don’t mind. I’m just going to go see where the Merchant stored everything.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” She kissed his palm as he drew it back.

“I’m sure,” he said, repressing a shudder. He wasn’t sure, but he trusted her, and had the growing desire for them to trust him. That would never happen if he couldn’t trust them back.

“Please take Sam with you; you’re about the only one that can keep him from mischief. Please?”

“I can’t guarantee he’ll stay down there if he gets bored,” he warned her, but threw the still relatively stiff mage over his shoulder like a sack of protesting potatoes and headed toward the back of the inn.

“Careful!” the Breton protested, though he was enjoying the close-up of Rommy’s rear. “Are you going to tell them the rest?” he asked after a moment. His “brother’s” silence was all the answer he’d expected, and he sighed. It seemed old Sanguine had to do everything.


	5. Dragons and Functionally Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get icy, and then more than a little heated.
> 
> Warning: our rating just went mature. You has been warned.

“So, he just gave me carte blanche to tell you everything. I’m still a little shell shocked myself.” Telki settled herself on the bench, her feet folded under her in her usual manner, tail curling about her legs. “And it’s as bad or worse than you probably guessed.” Telki painted a vivid word picture of what he’d shared with her--the crumbled city, the rampaging fires, his wife’s maddening death and his missing child--and what it had done to him. She was not surprised to find she had tears on her cheeks when she was done.

“Aw hell.” Gideon’s eyes were mysteriously shiny. Apparently, he’d not suspected it’d be that bad. “Honey, are you sure you want to take all that on?”

“You tellin’ me I’ll be doing it alone?” Telki quirked her eyebrow.

“You know better than that.” Gideon scoff. “Crazy powerful mage, who still sets my supernatural senses haywire, carting around enough emotional trauma to sink a fleet, and you don’t think that takes more than a little consideration?”

“We melded while he was teaching me the plum ward.”

“Telki!” Erandur was on his feet.

“I trusted him, still do, especially after that. He’s a marvel and soul deep good man. He’s worth the risk.”

All the fight seemed to leave Erandur on a heavy sigh as he sat back down. “I trust you, and I trust your judgement. I don’t really have anything solid I can say against the man, and I actually enjoy his company. Gideon?”

“Well, there is one upside to adding him to our group.”

“And that would be?” Erandur could really use an upside to this whole mess.

“Eccentric people make great secret weapons.” Gideon budged Mercutio’s boot with his own. “You want to add anything to this conversation?”

“What more can be said? The man has had two opportunities to take me apart in little pieces and passed on both counts.” Mercutio shrugged. “He’s a decent guy, and I enjoy his company too, even if his story does seem off.”

“I’m so glad you’re still in one piece!” Sam sobbed, seemingly coming out of nowhere and throwing his arms about the pretty mage, who screamed and cleared three feet trying to escape Sam’s clutches.

“Nope, can’t do that anymore Sam, you’ve been adopted.” Telki tossed an empty bottle at Sam’s thick head.

With reflexes that gave lie to his seeming inebriation, he caught it, sat down to drink it, then pouted when he held it upside down and nothing came out. “I’m not _\--hic!--_ sure what you mean by that,” he admitted.

“Oh, we’re keeping Rommy, and since you’re a package deal, welcome to the family.” Telki grinned. “If you’re looking for something to drink, I think I’ve still a bottle of my homebrew. You might like it.”

“I’ve had quite enough of drinks that make you,” he shuddered, “sober, thanks. I still don’t see why I can’t _\--hic!--_ cuddle the cute mage.”

“Because family respects and cares for each other. You know it makes him uncomfortable, so, you shouldn’t do it. If you bothered to ask first, you might just get a yes.” Telki thought a moment. “That is, if you didn’t grope, maybe.”

Sam was staring at her uncomprehendingly. “Where is the _\--hic!--_ fun in that?”

“You get more cuddles in the long run? That might lead to mutual groping later?” Telki shrugged. “It’s amazing what a little patience will get you.”

Making a noncommittal noise, he leaned around Mercutio, who jumped hastily to his feet, but Sam only snagged a bottle of mead from the stack there. “Anyways, I was wondering just how much he _\--hic!--_ told ya, because it occurred to me there’s something he might have left out.”

“I saw Felicia die, and him not find any sign of his son.” Telki looked at Sam quizzically. “If he’s willing to share that, precisely what is he still hiding? And shouldn’t he be the one to tell me, when he’s ready?”

Pouring mead into his Mug of Everlasting Cheer, he said, “Well, some things are sort of hard to explain. It’d probably easier if he were an elf, but…” his eyes rolled to Erandur. “How old are you exactly?”

“Lost track for a while, I think I’m roughly a hundred eighty something. Why?”

Swallowing before he answered, he pointed the mug at the Dunmer and said simply, “Rommy’s older than you.”

“Sweet Mother Mara.” Telki shook her head. “That’s impressive, but mages extend their lives, and we know he’s a doozy of a mage. Why is his age a deal breaker?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, he simply said, “Because he wouldn’t tell you about it. He’s going to outlive you, by a lot, probably. Same as your elf here. No matter what you _\--hic!--_ said to him about him never having to go through that again, you’re going to age and die before he does. And he’s not going to go by accident, either. For all mundane intents and purposes, Rommy and I are functionally immortal.”

“How did you! Why did you! Oooh!” Telki huffed. “You were listening in on us? Why?”

“I am terribly curious,” he replied with a smirk, his eyes tracking the angry thrashing of her tail.

“I’m Khajiit, curiosity is a racial requirement, and you don’t see me listening in on your conversations. Privacy. Surprise Rommy sometime; try it.” Telki narrowed her eyes at him. “Functionally immortal? Interesting.” Telki was mentally flipping through all the things that could lead to one being ‘functionally immortal.” She was not liking the odds, not one little bit. “I’m guessing that it’s quite a bit different from what Paarthurnax was hinting was in store for me.”

Looking like the Khajiit that got the cream, he purred, “You’re wondering how that happened.”

“Strangely enough, there’s not many things that lead to ‘functionally immortal’” Telki cautiously answered. “If I flat out ask, is he likely to tell me? I’d really rather not have to deal with the whole ‘going behind his back’ nonsense. It’s cliched for a reason.”

“Oh, he wandered around out of his mind for about a year after Felicia died before doing a favor for an old man, accidentally absorbing the old man’s curse.” Sam belched. “I’ll give you three guesses what _\--hic!--_ it was. If you don’t guess it...you’ll owe me a favor.”

Telki narrowed her eyes at Sam. Something….something was very very familiar about this whole setup. A bet, a staff. She gasped. ‘Sweet mothering Mara.” She hopped up off her bench. “Come downstairs with me, please.”

His grin could have eclipsed the fire. “With you? Certainly!”

Once she was out of earshot of Her Boys, Telki turned to him and said, “Your boss still owes me a staff, so I think we can safely say I won’t owe you anything.”

Sanguine nearly fell over laughing, doubling up and bracing his hands on his knees. One more look at her face did make him fall over, overbalancing with the movement on his unsteady legs. “Oh, sweetheart,” he gasped. “You are too much. After the Rose, are you? Eh, fair’s fair.”

“Who said I wanted the thing? He promised it, I’m simply using it as collateral to stay out from under Sanguine’s thumb, thank you. I prefer being a free agent.”

“That’s so...what’s that word? Iric? Iris? Tonic?”

“Ironic? Though I did promise I’d take a stick to all the Daedra if I had to, the Rose would probably get the job done. “

Sam laughed so hard he rolled down the stairs, landing on the floor still wheezing in mirth. Rommy rushed over to give him a hand up, looking up at Telki quizzically, his hair pulled back from his face and a little disheveled by the heat of the multiple baking ovens.

“Your brother here’s been oversharing. Something about a curse and ‘functional immortality?’” Telki tried to keep her voice light enough it didn’t sound accusatory, but she was more than a little miffed with Sam at the moment.

He froze, then looked down at Sam, who smiled innocently. It didn’t match his face very well. Whacking him upside the head, Rommy let him fall back to the floor and strode away, back toward the ovens.

Telki followed him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Rommy halted, sighing a little. “Sorry. I would have told you eventually. What all did he say?”

“Helped an old man, got cursed, you’d wind up all alone after we’re dust. Though I meant what I said. If it came down to it, I’d find a way back to you, hook, crook, or sideways. Shor owes me one if all else fails.”

Not able to help the small smile that returned to his face, he rubbed her arms, getting a bit of flour on them. “You make a lot of promises. But...I’m not completely alone. I have Sam.”

“Honey, no offense, but um, you were and still are the saddest sad man I’ve seen in a long while. He’s fallin’ down on the job, as it were. You need me.” She reared back and poked him. “An’ I don’t make promises I can’t keep, so there.”

“Sam...is distractible,” he said. “There is...something else. A kind of...project I’ve been working on.”

“Honey, before you tangle yourself any further, why not sit down with me, start at the beginning, and just tell me? Trust is the only way this thing is going to work.”

Feeling like this was moving far too fast for his liking, he led her to a chair and gently pushed her down into it, returning to folding dough. “I think better on my feet,” he informed her, hands working industriously. “My son...he wasn’t dead. He made it out, but no one knew who he was, and he was too young to really tell them. After I disappeared, one of my friends in the Blades found him, but she couldn’t find me, so she adopted him and took him back to Riften, where he grew up and eventually married. _His_ son enrolled in the army in the Great War and was captured by Thalmor. I knew him briefly before that, after I...came back to myself.”

“Oh honey.”

Throwing the dough back onto the floured surface a little more violently than warranted, he regarded it for a second before beginning to pinch off fist-sized pieces. “Most of the men in his unit--well, about half--were ransomed back to the Imperials after the war. Ever since then, I’ve been looking for him. Normally, I could cast a spell and know right where he is, but with those elves doing all sorts of magical experiments on...Well,” he looked up at her, gauging her reaction. “Too much?”

“Nope. Not running, see?” Telki leaned forward, stage whispering, “This level of lunacy kinda comes part and parcel with the job.” She sobered up. “Though I wish to Aetherius it wasn’t so...difficult. Nobody should have that much pain in one lifetime.”

Putting the dough down to regard her fully, gauging her reaction, he pointed out, “I’m several lifetimes in at this point.”  

Telki couldn’t sit while someone else was working, and got up to help; Gideon was already hungry, someone needed to start the bacon and eggs going. She started prepping the bacon for frying. Sprinkle sage, rub it in, and set the pan to warming over the grate. “So, Sam and you got yourselves ‘functionally immortal.’ Well, why can’t I follow right along, then? Or heck, come and visit me in Shor’s halls, if ‘functional immortality’ horrifies you too much, or something. Depending on which one you got in trouble with, I might even bivouac there. Azura’s plane is nice, I hear. Dunno about Meridia’s. Thoughts?”

The look of absolute horror he gave her was more telling than any words could express. “Why don’t you stick with eating dragons?” he suggested after a long moment.

“Hey! I only eat the ones that won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And really, I don’t like the idea of you by your lonesome, or grieving over me, or well... I figure you’ve had enough grief as it was. Excuse me for trying to plan ahead to keep my promise. Looks like I might be using that Rose on the Daedra after all. Come to think of it, Malacath might let me use his thingymadoodle, if I asked the right way.”

“His _what?”_ Rommy asked, looking vaguely appalled.

“Scourge! His hammer. He says it packs an extra whammy against Daedra.” Telki wasn’t sure what forgotten corner she was able to round the name up from, but she was glad she had. She didn’t care for the look Rommy gave her over “thingymadoodle.” Just what did he think she’d meant?

Holding up his hands as if waving off questions, he simply said, “We can talk about this more later. If I...don’t drive you all insane. Or Sam. He’s also pretty good at driving people insane.”

“Honey, I confuse you now as it is. What makes you think I’m not already there?” Telki winked at him, setting the first batch of bacon to sizzling. “I have proof in a chest somewhere in my attic, if you’d care to see.” Yeah, and wasn’t that an interesting afternoon? Blaise and she had a very long talk about Not Touching Things. Thank Shor the guard got over being a chicken, though he never ate eggs after that.

“I’ll see the proof in your chest!” Sam yelled, loud enough for the Boys to hear upstairs, probably.

“Sam, I will thump you,” Telki threatened.

“Promise?” he called hopefully.

“She’s going to Wabbajack you, you idiot,” Romulus called. “Go stick your head in the snow until you can think straight.”

“Why are you mad at meeee?” he whined.

“I did tell you to let him tell me in his own time, but nooooo. Sanguinists, sheesh.” Telki muttered as she poured eggs into the bacon grease, stirring them so they’d scramble and not burn. Glancing at Rommy over her shoulder, she asked, “So, still not running here. You?”

“You do realize if this...went anywhere...you’d have a grandchild?” he pointed out. It was actually kind of weird to him when he put it that way. Maybe he should wear his white hair; he felt old.

“Why Romulus, are you an ageist? Shame on you.” Telki teased, and then started giggling. “Perchance, did you ever get out to the Cyrodiil countryside? Outside Cheydinhal? There’s a funny folk song, about a father and son marrying a widow and her daughter. Widow married the Son, and the Daughter married the Father. It was hilarious.”

“Well, at least I’m not the only one with an awkward family reunion to look forward to,” he managed with a wan smile. Turning, he pulled a tray of rolls from the oven, replacing them with a sugary concoction shaped like square pieces with origami folds on the top.

“Oooh, what are those?”

“I can’t pronounce them for the life of me, but they’re from Morrowind. I thought Erandur might like them.” He paused, “Of course, that’s what I thought when I first learned to make them for Felicia, only to find out she’d never set foot in Morrowind.”

“I know he loves mazte, but mentions he spent most of his life in The Pale. Hence the weakness for snowberry tarts. They’re worth a shot. Heck, I might like ‘em.” She took an appreciative sniff. “If they smell this good now, I can only imagine what they’ll smell like done.”

“Well, she ended up liking them, anyway,” he said with a grin. Taking a quick break, he tore a roll in half and spread it with butter before dipping it in honey, then handing half to her.

“Oh you lovely lovely man. Thank you.” Telki savored the first bite with her eyes closed in bliss. “Scrumptious.”

“Cooking always makes me peckish,” he informed her, watching her with a pleased expression. “I like how you do that,” he said a moment later.

“Mmpft?” cheeks full as a chipmunk, Telki’s eyes popped open wide, her voice squeaking in question.

He chuckled, reaching out and lifting a crumb off her cheek. “You always seem to enjoy everything to the fullest. Anything. Everything you do, you put everything you are into it.”

Telki’s eyes crinkled, her chest vibrating with laughter. She couldn’t resist. She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. It’s not like she could do much else; her mouth was still occupied, and she did not believe in ‘see food’.

Bursting out laughing, Rommy walked over and pulled her into a half-hug, putting his face near hers so that he was talking directly into her ear, “But if you don’t focus at least a little on the eggs, they’re going to turn into charcoal.”

“Fffffst!” Telki turned back to the skillet, sighing through her nose to see the eggs fluffing beautifully, nowhere near scorching yet. She finally was able to swallow. “Dirty pool, Rommy.”

He winked at her before turning back to what he was doing. “Snowberry, right?” he called.

“Yep! And honey nut treats!” Telki shook her spatula at Rommy, reminding him.

“How could I forget those?” he nearly groaned. Did the woman have any idea the kinds of _noises_ she made when she was eating those things? He was mad, not dead.

“Bacon and eggs are ready, but um,” Telki eyed Sam. “how do we let the rest of my Boys know soup’s on?”

Glancing at the other Prince, who pouted hopefully, doing a lost kitty face almost as well as Telki, he said darkly, “Go tell them without groping anyone and I won’t throw out the scarecrow.”

“Don’t get rid of Mister Pole!” he protested, running up the stairs.

Telki laughed to herself as she set out heaping plates of bacon and eggs. “Hmm, do Daedric princes share? ‘Cause I swear that one must have double tapped.”

“I sincerely hope you never see what he’s like sober,” Rommy told her, whipping snowberries and cream double-time and pouring it into a tart crust that might as well have materialized there.

“He’s scary smart sloshed, so no, I’ll pass.” Telki gauged the plates and their loads. “Is that going to be enough bacon and eggs for you?” She gestured to his plate she’d fixed.

Glancing up a moment, he replied with the affirmative before staring at the tart thoughtfully. “He’s brilliant, you know. He’d probably give your Gideon a run for his money in the strategy department.”

“He’d have to be to still be functional while buzzed all the time.” Telki looked wistful for a moment. “Makes me a little sad I never got to know him before Sanguine happened to him.”

There was a long pause. “Me too,” he finally said, then busied himself putting the tart in the oven. “You forgot the rolls,” he said in a more normal tone, coming over and placing a basket of them on the table.

“Thanks shug.” Without thinking twice, she reached on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, as naturally as she kissed Erandur or Gideon or Mercutio, and went on with setting the table like it was an everyday occurrence. He stood there a moment, hand rising to lightly rest his fingertips where her lips had touched, before he shook himself out of it and fetched the crock of butter.

“I was told there was some breakfast ready around here somewhere?” Gideon stood in the doorway, scanning for where Telki would have set their plates. There was always an order to it, and woe betide the poor fool that upset it.

“Were you told with or without groping?” Rommy called.

“He stood three feet away, hands behind his back, something about Mister Pole being held hostage.” Gideon chuckled. “I never thought I’d see such a thing.”

Turning to Telki as if they had been arguing about it, Rommy declared, “See? He _can_ be taught!”

“Bravo, have a cookie.” Telki had a piece of scone broken off and in his mouth before he could close it. He closed his lips on her fingers, and gave her a ludicrously suggestive look, wagging his eyebrows up and down, eyes twinkling. Telki leaned in close, her words for his ears alone. “Whenever you’re ready, Sugar. I’m not the one holding up production,” and she winked at him.

Rommy choked, then had to beat his chest to help get the bite of scone down. He should have seen that coming, but he hadn’t. How he hadn’t, spending most of his time with Sanguine, he didn’t know. There was something to be said, though, for a woman that could continually surprise the God of Madness.

“Gideon, your plate’s there, yes, the pile twice as high as anyone else’s, of course.” Erandur and Mercutio were soon seated, even though Mercutio kept looking back up the steps puzzled. “Rommy threatened him, it’s not a ploy, come eat already.”

Patting the other man on the shoulder reassuringly, Rommy told him, “He’ll behave for now. He can be downright polite when given the right motivation.” Checking the oven, he pulled out the unpronounceable Morrowind treats.

“N’ontrinels!” Erandur sat up, excited glee on his face. “I’ve not had them since I was a little in Mum’s kitchen!”

“Well I’m not sure about your Mum’s kitchen, but I did learn how to make these from a Dunmer, so I’m told they’re right,” he said, sliding them onto a plate and bringing them over to the table. After a moment, he shrugged and sat down, using Telekinesis to put the snowberry tart in the oven.

“They smell just right.” Erandur happily slid one onto his plate, blowing lightly to cool it enough to taste. His eyes closed and a wide smile bloomed with the first bite. “Perfect.” He savored the rest of the treat with relish, and scooped two more on his plate before he was done with the first.

“I’m glad,” he said sincerely, tucking into his own food. Sam was still busy casting him suspicious looks.

Telki was humming. It was just something she did when she was content. All Her Boys were safe, and even better, enjoying a meal she helped make. This was pure happiness in her book.

Rommy glanced around, unsure exactly what he was feeling. The last time he’d sat at a table eating with people, there had been...well, a lot more teacups involved, anyway. And at least some of the people were tied to their chairs. And there might have been a mouse. Wordlessly, he dipped a bit of roll into his eggs, simply listening to the conversation around him, trying to work things out. This was...nice. Even Sam was behaving relatively well, after going to get the rest of her Boys like he’d been told…

...wait…

Eggs and breathing did not mix well.

Without taking his gaze off his plate, Gideon gave Rommy a few sharp whacks between his shoulderblades to loosen the stuck bite. Finally managing to swallow the errant bit of egg, he wheezed, “Thanks,” staring at his plate like his life depended on it.

“Don’t mention it. You get used to it eventually at Telki’s table.”

“Oh, good,” he muttered, rubbing his throat. “It’s not just me.”

Leaning over and laying his head against Rommy’s arm, Sam asked, “Do you need the hind lick maneuver?”

“Heimlich, and no thank you,” Romulus replied, rolling his eyes. Giving his food a bit more attention to ensure it all went down this time, he continued eating, keeping part of his magic focused outward so the tart didn’t burn. That tendril of magic alerted him to something flying around inside the storm. Pausing, he put down his fork, looking up through the floor and roof of the inn to watch its progress over the town.

“Rommy? Are you okay?” Telki had been enjoying breakfast, but a glance at his distracted stare put the pause on that. What had happened?

“Hmm?” he glanced back down, catching her eyes. His were a little brighter gold than normal. “Are you about finished?” he asked, nodding to her plate.

“Yes, I suppose so. Why?” Telki immediately put her utensils on her plate, and moved it to the waiting wash.

“Well, it could be nothing, but there’s a dragon outside and any moment he might--” the inn shook as the howling of the wind turned into the words **“** **_Fo Krah Diin!_ ** **”** “--ah, there he goes.”

“Really? Can’t I even enjoy a blizzard snow-in without something happening?” Telki whined. Yes, whiney cat had come out to play. Gideon had swiftly and silently geared up while they were still talking. Erandur was right behind him as the inn shook again, massive wings blowing off some of the protective layer of snow.

Cleaning his mouth with a napkin before setting it down, Rommy turned to Sam, “Keep an eye on the tart, would you?”

“But I like fighting dragons,” Sam pouted.

“Last time you fed one a Kh--” he glanced at Telki and changed his word at the last minute, “a drug dealer and laughed when it got too buzzed to fly straight. I do not want that thing landing on a house.”

Telki, eyes flashing, poked Sam in the chest. “For the record, no more feeding people to dragons or any other monster. It doesn’t deserve the indigestion. “

He blinked his red-rimmed eyes at her. “Can I feed them to Bosmer? They like dinner with...me.”

The inn shook again, the other patrons screaming as they panicked. “I suggest you discuss this later,” Rommy recommended, rising.

“We _will_ be discussing this later, because, just, ew.” Telki moved her hands in a complicated pattern, and was dressed in battle leathers with a greatwood longbow on her back glowing with twin enchants. Rommy flashed her a grin that suggested he was eager for a fight before disappearing upstairs, summoning his own armor, mostly for nostalgic reasons. Telki pelted lightly after him. There was a dragon, and by Shor nobody was going to get hurt if she could help it.

Outside it was...hard to see, actually. Between the dragon’s breath and the storm, visibility was terrible. The swirl of snow from the churning of great wings was the only real indication of where the dragon actually was.

**_“Lok...VAH KOR!”_** Gideon’s shout cleared the immediate area, and they got their first good view of the dragon. It was massive, the size indicating a great amount of power and the absorption of innumerable foes. The scales were white as bone, edged in ashy-grey, as if it spent a long time nestling in flame. It’s ice-blue eyes were keen with amusement, looking over the town trapped in the dragon’s preferred element. The gargantuan head turned, spying them, and it rumbled delectation with a blast of ice. It bounced off the spherical--or, as Telki put it, “plum”--ward that Romulus placed over them all.

“Sweet mothering mercy, aren’t you a sight to behold?” Telki didn’t mind letting her amazement show. She’d never seen the like, and she visited Paarthurnax on a regular basis. Ice cold dread ran in rivers down her back. This thing was dangerous, and she immediately began scanning those bone white scales for likely targets for her enchanted arrows.

“Hey!” Rommy yelled at it. “Ice cube! Get your tail down here and fight properly!”

CRACK _-THOOOOOOOM!_ The entire area seemed to dance for a moment, the dragon sidling sideways in the sky before catching itself on the slipstream, gaining ground with an angry roar. Things returned to normal in time to see the hammer fly back to Gideon’s grip. “I find that tends to work faster than insults.”

For once, someone other than Telki was astounding him. Giving him an approving look, Romulus laughed in delight. “ _Where_ did you get _that?_ ” he cried. He’d held Talos’s armor in his hand--he knew a Divine Relic when he saw one.

“A gift upon finishing my rite of passage.” Gideon whirled the hammer for another toss. “Tough old bird. Might take another couple tosses to get him down here.” A dozen rapid fire sparkles danced against the flying form in the sky. Telki was already lining her next shot up when Rommy’s gaze turned to her.

“Isn’t there a Shout to bring him down?” he asked curiously.

“Yes…” Telki grimaced, “Not a big fan of Shouting. Always hurts my jaw.”

“Best not then, unless you have that thing insured,” he glanced at Gideon. “Looks like it’s your go.”

“Why Rommy, I thought you’d never ask.” A wide, toothy smile wrapped its way around Gideon’s face, eyes bright and twinkling. He loosed his hammer.

CRACK _-THOOOOOOOM!_

The dragon shrieked as the hammer knocked it off course, hitting it in the shoulder and probably numbing the wing. It tumbled, falling through the sky in a slight diagonal...right toward Dawnstar.

“No, not on the town!” breathed Telki, surely there was something she could do?

The words were barely out of her mouth when green lightning arched around Rommy’s hand, whipping out like a bullwhip to wrap around the dragon’s neck. Wrenching his body around, he yanked it down onto the ice of the harbor, cracking it in a spiderweb pattern all the way to the shore.

“Functional immortality is looking better and better when you can pull stunts like that.” Telki kissed his cheek before running towards the fallen dragon. Erandur, Mercutio, and Gideon were already en route. He paused a moment, shook his head, and raced after them. He really hoped she didn’t want to learn that one any time soon; he’d have a difficult time explaining how he was still standing.

The dragon struggled, floundering on the ice as he pulled himself out of the hole his landing had made. Glaring at the warriors, he yelled something in Dovahzul that sounded immensely insulting.

Telki sent a reply zinging with an arrow attached. Gouts of Flame erupted all over the dragon’s back, melting the ice, and dousing the dragon in the freezing water. Immediately after, Lightning danced along its scales, courtesy of Mercutio.

A wing snapped out, sending Gideon flying back into the hull of a ship, splintering it. Whipping its head around, it snapped at Telki, tail churning trying to swat those behind it. Even as Telki sprung back to avoid the snap, an arrow was on its way down the dragon’s open maw. An opportunity was an opportunity, and Telki would not waste it.

The Shout rising from the dragon was cut off before it could rightly begin, and it screamed, throwing its head back in agony. Rommy darted in, long dagger at the ready, and slashed along the relatively softer scales of its throat, just behind the jaw, drawing blood but not seriously wounding it. The whipping head moved back toward him, and he grabbed the neck, swinging himself onto the dragon’s head and clinging like a burr, using his dagger to pull up the scales protecting the eye ridges.

“Thank you, Love,” whispered Telki as she loosed a shot right at the lovely target Rommy presented her, aiming straight for that dilated dragon pupil. The eye exploded, the arrow not slowing until it pierced the brain. The dragon jerked, limbs twitching, and fell onto the ice, dead. Rommy hopped off quickly, not wanting to get...certain areas burned.

“Ewwww, I always hate this part. Incoming.” Telki squinched her eyes shut, not that it’d do much good. And then the swirling vortex of evil dragon personality swamped her. For such a petty being, the dragon had a lovely soul, and it swirled around her in a dance of light and color before sinking into her.

Telki turned her attention inwards, summoning the Wabbajack to her mental hand. She always thought the best way to beat such madness was with a literal crazy stick, and there in the shadows of her mind were the burning eyes of the newly dead dragon. This was going to take a while.

Erandur and Mercutio both dove towards Telki, Erandur close enough to catch her before she hit ground.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rommy asked as he jogged over, concerned.

“She’s beating a dragon soul into submission.” Erandur explained. “We’ve never faced one that big or that old before.”

“I’m going to be sick” mumbled a half coherent Telki. Erandur held her so she could retch into the bay. Gideon had finally untangled himself from the ship and made his way to them at a run.

“Isn’t there some way to fight it back?” he asked, alarmed.

“I don’t know, when she uses a Word she’s learning, the souls subdue faster, but it’s been some time since we found a Word Wall. The last ones we’d seen were on Solstheim.” Erandur smoothed her hair back, she was starting to sweat.

Without another word, Rommy knelt in the snow next to Telki, putting one hand on her temple, looking into her mind and grinning slightly when he noticed her mental “weapon.”  Pulling her head around to look into her eyes, he used that inadvertent connection to his advantage, strengthening the parts of her mind that were strained until she’d gotten the dragon under control.

She stared for a moment, and then sagged against them in relief. “Thank you.” Gideon and Erandur exchanged looks. They were more than a little curious about how Rommy helped her, but were also fairly certain they’d get no straight answer from Rommy. They’d have to wait on Telki.

“You’re welcome,” he said, face guarded though his eyes never left her.

“I want cuddles, warm tea, and scones, not necessarily in that order. Please, now, and thank you?”

Finally turning his gaze to the other men, he lifted both eyebrows in enquiry. “That can probably be arranged.”

“Good, carry me. My legs are wobbly.” Telki lifted arms up at Rommy.

Feeling decidedly awkward that she’d asked him with her three husbands about, he took a moment to see they weren’t protesting, then lifted her up. “Um...I guess we’ll… be inside?” he shifted, uncertain. No one was going to try to pummel him for this, were they? Not that he would say no to another fight, but Telki hadn’t seemed to appreciate the first one.

“It’ll let me help sort out the dragon’s remains, actually. Just two handling the job tends to leave too much behind.” Erandur had caught the worried look. As if anyone could boss Telki around. He was smiling a soft smile that left crinkles by his eyes.

“Al-right,” Rommy said, still somewhat confused by these people. Honestly, the people in the Shivering Isles made more sense, and they sometimes had sword battles with frozen fish. Or live fish, depending on who started it. Live fish yelled insults the entire time. Hefting Telki against him a little, he turned and slogged back through the snow to the inn. The townsfolk were peering out their doors, but now that the snow was starting to come back down--quite as if it resented being told to halt, actually--they were going back inside. “I didn’t realize being Dragonborn took so much out of you,” he mused aloud, thinking of Martin’s final moments.

“They’re easier to subdue when I’ve a shout to learn. I need to find more Word Walls.”

“What?” Rommy reared back to look down at her.

“The monument walls? The words all look like scratchings? Sometimes a word will ‘speak to me’  and then the dragon souls are, I dunno, absorbed by the Word or something.  I think I’ve found all I can in Skyrim and Solstheim.”

He shook his head; a few hundred years poking into caves had taught him a thing or twelve. Having the original Sheogorath’s memories had taught him a few million more, even if an ungodly number of those were about cheese. “The Dragon Cult spread far into High Rock, Hammerfell, and Morrowind. There are still plenty of places in Skyrim that haven’t had a living foot step in them for ages, as well.”

“Challenge accepted.” Telki settled against him. “After my cuddles, tea, and scones, though. And this storm clears out proper.”

Romulus looked up, wondering if he should extend the thing out for a few more days. No. The people of Dawnstar wouldn’t thank him for making them all starve to death. “I can see you doing just that. There are a few in northern Cyrodiil you should probably start with, though. Sort out what the political climate in High Rock and...well, they’re all rather cutthroat, aren’t they?” He opened the door with a wave of his hand, ignoring those that stared and whispered. Honestly, hadn’t they ever seen a woman eat a dragon before?

“Awww, now you sound like Ulfric! ‘Telki, I need a level head to speak with this uppity muck from so and such and I can’t be bothered.’ There’s a reason I quit visiting Windhelm, y’know.”

Rommy scowled at Ulfric’s name. Were it not for that idiot, his last descendant probably never would have been captured by the Thalmor. “That sounds about right,” he grumbled, heading passed the firepit and down to the basement. It was rather hard to relax when people were gawping at you.

“I’m probably not being fair, though. Did you know he was one of the first people to make me welcome in Skyrim? One of his men loaned me a cloak, and the rest is Dragonborn history.”

“I suppose the man can’t be all bad,” he grumbled, going down the stairs. Putting her down on a pile of spare bed furs sitting on a long crate, he set a fire rune down in front of her, and another against the wall. “Don’t lean on that,” he warned, going off to get her scones and tea. He took the snowberry tart out while he was at it. Sam had forgotten, but it was only a little brown around the edges. Nothing too bad.

“Pigheaded to a fault, certain sure of his righteous cause, but fundamentally a decent man.” She shuddered. “And capable of a rip roaring temper. Never saw the like the day I gave him his dossier from the Embassy. Not a happy camper.”

“I’d like to show him my rip roaring temper,” Rommy muttered, boiling water by holding the pot in flaming hands, then pouring it over the tea strainer. He’d put a lot of effort into saving the Empire that man hated so much.

“I think I broke my Wabbajack,” Telki weaved a bit in place, trying hard to not fall back on the rune behind her. Fighting the dragon, and then fighting the dragon soul had worn her to a nub.

He startled so badly he dropped the teapot. “What?” he yelped, catching it with his knee and bouncing it back up like he used to a kickball as a child. The water stayed inside, mostly because he glared at it.

“The dragon’s soul, I think I broke my Wabbajack on it. Never sure if it’s actually there, or just a mental projection. There was a definite ‘ffffzzt’ sound though.” Telki blinked at him. “You smell good, can I nibble on you ‘til the scones are done?”

Rommy shook his head, “You can nibble on me if you want, but the scones were done before breakfast.” Now this, this was the kind of conversation he was used to. If not from Sam, then from his subjects. Picking up the tray, he carried it over to her, banishing the wall rune before she fell on it. The rock was probably warm by now anyway. Setting the tray on a nearby crate, he picked up the cup, wrapped her cold fingers around it, and sat next to her, pulling her against his side.

Sam watched, not being obvious about it, and grinned, tiptoeing up the stairs like the sneak thief in a children’s comedy. If the boys came back soon, he’d have to see what he could do about...waylaying them. Actually...he hid the door with an illusion, laying down on it. Illusions were comfortable. Closing his eyes, he started to snore.

“Absorbing dragon souls sucks, especially the big ones. I always feel wiped out and loopy after a fight, and then the fight.” She tilted her head up at Rommy. “And how’d you get Khajiit eyes, anyways? I’ve only seen that color on Sathays, and they’d be jealous ‘cause yours are prettier.”

That elicited another smile. He smiled a lot around her, he’d noticed. “Aren’t they jealous of yours?”

“I dunno, while purple eyes aren’t common, they’re not that uncommon, at least in Elseweyr, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never been.” Telki let her head fall back and rest on his chest. “Offerin’ to take me some day?” He had a lovely chin. She decided to trace it with her finger. The beard was nice, too. Springy, but not too scratchy.

“I will take you anywhere you want this side of Oblivion. Except Atmora. I hear it’s very cold up there.”

“I think ‘buried under tons of ice’ definitely qualifies as cold.” Telki let her eyes roam as her thoughts seemed to bounce. She took a sip of the warm tea. She hummed. Just right, too. “Who taught you to make tea? This is scrumptious.”

“That would be my mother, who insisted it was an art every noble needed,” he said with a wince, drawing one leg up to rest the arm that wasn’t around her on his knee. His sisters had the worst of it, though. No one had made Rommy or his brother learn the intricacies of Akaviri tea ceremonies.

“Hey, no sad thoughts when I can’t witty you out of them.” Telki wriggled around until she could lean her head into his shoulder and look at his expression. “I mean it. This is my cuddle and regroup, and you are not allowed to sad at me.”

“Thinking about my mother isn’t sad, it’s just painful,” he corrected, “The woman was a harridan.”

“No unhappy thoughts. They bring me down. Changing subject activated. What do you want to show me first about Elseweyr?”

He gave her a mock-serious look. “Pirates.”

“Okay, what about Elseweyr Pirates makes them a must see?” Telki wondered just what could be different enough to make them noteworthy. She’d had more than her fair share of the Skyrim variety. Couldn't stumble over a wrecked ship without tripping over half a dozen.

His teeth shone whitely as he grinned, “I’m friends with a couple of them,” he revealed. “And they are very different from the ones on the northern coast. For one thing, some of them are Imperially sanctioned to go after Thalmor ships. For another, more than half the time they’re on Moonsugar. You have not seen a raid until you see a pirate ship dock at port and mad rush a town looking for sweetrolls.”

Telki laughed. She could see it. Shoot, she’s seen Nords brawl over the single sweetroll left in an inn. Pirates raiding a town looking for the bakery wasn’t so unbelievable.

“Huh, sanctioned pirates? Don’t that make them privateers?”

Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head lightly. “I suppose,” he replied. “The Dagi are fun, too. They never come out of their trees sometimes. They’re incredible to watch, moving through the branches. I once saw an acrobatic troupe with nothing but Dagi, Dagi-raht, and a couple of Bosmer women in waaaay too little clothing. Sam liked that one too.”

“I bet he did. How did you keep him from testing their ‘flexibility?’” Telki had sipped her tea to the dregs, and not much was left of her scone but crumbs on her armor. Now she could devote her full attentions to snuggling Rommy to within an inch of his life.

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I went to find him the next morning and found him passed out naked in the middle of their tent, all of them tumbled all over each other. That was...well, not as awkward as some other things.” Being run out of the town by their fathers had been much more entertaining.

“Oh dear. How does that man not have a child or several in every town of Tamriel?” Telki shuddered at the thought.

“We don’t know that he doesn’t,” Rommy echoed the shudder. That many little Sanguines about was nothing to joke about.

“I could not imagine being so careless I wouldn't know my own children.” Telki sounded wistful. She loved her adopted children. They were hers. But there was something about carrying a child, feeling it grow under her heart, that she desperately wanted to experience.

Rommy stiffened slightly, silent. Telki turned concerned eyes on him. “No, stop it right there. That is not what I meant and you know it. You found yours. Has Sam even looked?”

“I found mine an old man,” he said, closing his eyes. “And...I don’t think Sam wants to look. He and responsibility have no more than a nodding acquaintance at best.”

“And that is what I cannot wrap my mind around.” Telki was mad at herself for making him sad again. She peppered little kisses all over the part of his jaw she could reach. She hoped it’d either distract him or comfort him, or if she were lucky, both.

He smiled, pulling her a little closer, “You’re really transparent sometimes, you know,” he informed her.

“It’s working anyway, though, right?” Wide violet eyes blinked up at him, all the mischief in the world reflected in them.

His breath caught just looking down at her, eyes tracing her face for a minute. “How do you...never mind; Khajiit. Or maybe it’s just you being you that makes your eyes twinkle even in low light,” he smiled softly.

“You wanna puzzle out my eyes, or kiss me?” Telki scrunched her nose playfully at him. Teasing him.

Snickering, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Happy?” He wasn’t ready for this. Was he?

“I think your aim was off, try again?”

Leaning in, he lightly kissed her forehead, then moved down, leaving butterfly-light kisses along her eyelids. Moving his hands up gently, he held her face in both hands, brushing his thumb along her jaw and bottom lip. Was he ready for this? Would he know unless he tried? And he wanted to try, wanted it more with every breath.

Telki held her breath, waiting. Holding his gaze with her own. Would he? Was he ready, was it too soon? Oh, she hoped he was ready, because she had pretty much been ready the moment his soul touched hers. Maybe even before, because why else would she have trusted him with that in the first place?

Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers, thoughts whirling furiously. She felt so soft against him. How could someone who felt so soft have a dragon’s soul, anyway? Brushing his thumb once more across her bottom lip, he leaned in slightly, finally bringing his lips to hers.

A thin, reedy with need ululation escaped with Telki’s held breath as she finally FINALLY tasted Rommy on her lips. It was as divine as she’d hoped, and she wanted more. Both hands went up to grab hold and keep him there, while she deepened the kiss, wanting him so close for as long as possible, and she was wearing a breathing charm.

As if a dam had burst, his arm went around her waist, pulling her against him, his other threading through her hair. He forgot everything, including the fact that literally anyone could walk down at any moment. His mind was full, for once not with the whirling thoughts of others or himself, but with her; the feel of her, her scent, her sweetness. She smelt like honeysuckle and the jazbay scones, sugar lingered on her lips, and her hair was probably the softest thing he’d ever touched.

Telki was sure she was in some sort of heaven. How else to explain how good his hands on her felt, or how smooth and silky his hair felt sliding through her exploring fingers, or the fact his tongue was doing THOSE things with hers? Every little thing, from the smooth muscles she could feel sliding under his leather jerkin to the taste of his skin was spiralling her emotions higher and higher. She’d only thought the fight with the dragon had made her dizzy. Rommy had her head spinning like a tinker’s top.

His hand soothed down her side to her hip, magic automatically coming to his fingertips, little gold sparks of Restoration that sent warmth through whatever they touched. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. He wasn’t sure when he’d pulled her onto his lap, either.

Telki needed more, she tugged on the leather jerkin. “Off!”

Blinking, his eyes molten gold at this point, he regained a little self-awareness. “Are you sure?” he asked, smoothing curls back from her face. “There’s still...a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I know I need to kiss every inch of your skin. Every. Inch. Off!”

A breathless laugh escaped him. “Well, when you put it like that…” he teased, pushing her back. It took him a second to remember how to take armor off normally, but he managed, hoping she took the fumbling for anticipation--which it partially was--and not completely forgetting how to do things like a mortal--which it mostly was. Finally, he just cursed when one got stuck, pulled out his dagger and cut through the strap.

“Never thought I’d see the day I could teach you magic.” Telki simply sent her armor back to its pocket space, and started tugging her light tunic off.

Putting his hand over hers, he shook his head. “I don’t think I could remember how to summon Candlelight right now,” he admitted, then leaned down and kissed her deeply, pulling her against his chest again before breaking off. “Allow me,” he breathed. “There are some things I remember how to do.” With a little laugh, he added, “At least, when straps aren’t involved.”

“You have carte blanche to manhandle me anytime.” Telki managed to gasp. The man could kiss. Her toes were still curled, and not likely to uncurl anytime soon.

Meeting her gaze, he said simply, “I’m not intending to manhandle you quite yet.”

“Well, can I handle you out of that shirt, at least? There’s a chest under there in dire need of kisses.” She delicately walked her fingers to the hem, taking firm handholds to either side.

“Um…” he looked hesitant for a second, then shrugged, lifting his arms slightly. She fought dragons, it wasn’t like she’d never seen burn and battle scars before. Her Nord probably had more than he did, anyway. They tended to court the things. Still, he felt more than a little self-conscious when the cool air of the basement hit his exposed skin. Shining red marks danced their way across his chest from his left shoulder, reaching out as if the flames had patterned themselves into his flesh. There were other spots of once melted, damaged skin, but that was the worst one, and they were all crossed and crisscrossed with the stretched white of knife and sword wounds.

“Honey, whoever your healer was did a pitiful job of it.” She started kissing and didn’t stop until every scorch mark, burn, and scar had been thoroughly laved and loved.

“Ah, that was me, actually. There weren’t a lot of of other options in the Deadlands, and I was more of a street-fighter than a mage, back then,” he confessed.

Telki had kissed her way up the side of his neck, and ran her tongue along the helix of his ear, making him shiver. “And what were you a’doin’ in a Daedric Realm, shug?”

“Killing daedra, stealing stuff...getting my ass handed to me, mostly. At least the first few times,” he admitted. It was really hard to think at the moment. His neck was...a lovely place to be...what was he going on about again?

There was a pause. “You weren’t just named for the Champion, were you?” Telki finally had two thoughts collide, which was amazing, considering exactly how much desire she was swimming in, and really, it wouldn’t matter if he was a Daedric Prince at this point. She had his measure, and she loved him. End of story.

He paused, then tightened his arms around her. “Maybe,” he said, resting his head on her shoulder. “Well…” He sighed. “No.”

She pulled back so he could see her eyes and her very determined jaw. “I. Don’t. Care. I know you. Honey, you shared your soul with me, whether you realized it or not. I’m not running. I’m not going to run, so hiding the hells you’ve been through isn’t doing anything but keeping me from helping you deal with them. Now kiss me.”

“One moment,” he teased, his smile taking on a wicked tinge quite unusual for him. His hands reached easily under her tunic, very deliberate magic running through them this time, sliding up over her ribs and teasing the bottom of her breast band. “I am only half dressed, and it’s unfair.”

“I’ve been waitin’ on you to get with the program, shug.”

Laughing, he leaned down, kissing her stomach inch by inch as he slid her shirt up. Pulling it up over her head, he proved to himself that he still had the knack of removing breastbands with his teeth, which was good, because it usually surprised people, and looked stupid when he failed.

“Oh my goodness.” Telki was losing her mind, she was sure of it. No man had the right to feel that good and look that sexy taking off a shirt and boob band.

“Don’t worry,” he said, eyes crinkling before his lips moved to her collarbone, nibbling lightly. “I only intend to drive you the fun kind of crazy.”

“Oh please and thank you.” Telki’s fingers wrapped themselves in his silky hair, keeping him right there. It felt so good, but other things were getting impatient too, and she felt herself shifting restlessly against him.

Her wiggling was going to rush him, he just knew it. Tugging her hair slightly to tilt her head back, he left feather light kisses on her throat, before dipping suddenly and latching his mouth...somewhat lower.

Telki nearly yelped, but all that escaped her was a high pitched keen, and both legs wound themselves around his waist, wanting him closer. She might have pulled his hair a bit, too, with the first suckle. Her boobs were a serious erogenous zone.

“Pants.” Telki finally got brain and mouth working together again. What was he doing with his tongue, even? “Need pants gone.”

“As you wish,” he mumbled, laying her back along the fur-topped crate. Rising up, he kissed her as his hands pulled the ties to her pants, slipping them down her hips with teasing slowness. This was the most fun way to drive someone crazy he’d ever found, especially since he was going with her.

“Mmmft!” Telki did not want to inform the entire inn of what they were up to down here, yet Rommy seemed bent on making her as noisy as possible. The tease. Two could play that game, he was at just the right height, and the ties to his pants were right...there. Telki nipped at his lip to distract him while her busy little hand found his ties and pulled.

He broke off, surprise lighting his eyes. “Minx,” he purred, reaching up to tweak her other breast.

“Yep, that seems to be the consensus. Except Erikur, but he doesn’t count because he’s a jerkfaced horker spunge.”

“Alright, a few rules; don’t start randomly talking about ugly men, because I have a vivid imagination. Two; teach me some of your insults because that’s a new one to me,” he laughed.

“I’d much rather talk about how your hands feel on my skin, or how your eyes are so bright and happy, or how badly I need to taste those delectable lips right now.”

Obligingly, he leaned down to give her a tantalizing kiss, then stood looking down at her, taking her in. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he told her sincerely.

“Awww,” Telki blushed, and reached for him. Why did he keep getting out of arms’ reach? “No more than you are, did you know that?”

“Oh, I am a paragon of men,” he joked.

“I mean it, Silly Man.” Telki pouted, pulling him to her to snuggle, running her hands up and down his back.

Eyes softening with affection, then brightening with something else entirely, he nibbled her bottom lip before moving down, between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach, glancing up at her when he got to her navel, then continuing until he’d reached her center.

Telki had started humming, and only got louder the lower he got. Anticipation racing up and down her nerve endings, she had to bite her hand to keep quiet when he found Ground Zero of the Orgasmaclypse. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders and spasmed.

Watching her through his lashes, he gently teased her flesh, enjoying the way she moved, how she sounded...maybe he should have cast Muffle. Gently, he placed a fingertip against her, summoning just the tiniest hint of sparks to it.

“Mmmmmmft!” Wide eyes regarded him as the spark did its dance across already sensitive nerve endings, and it felt good! Her legs tightened, and she momentarily worried for Rommy, but eh, he brought it on himself. She was going to make him heal the bite marks in her hand, too.

He chuckled, sending little vibrations through her with the sound, and slid the finger inside her, watching her intently. Telki bucked, because it was just this side of too much, and continued to twitch. If he kept this up, she’d probably orgasm before they got to any of the usual play, if her nerves didn’t fry out first.

As if he’d expected it, his other arm came down, laying across her hips and firmly holding her still as his tongue and other hand went to work, moving together in a steady, practiced rhythm.

Telki was dying, no she was sure she was dead already, when the avalanche hit her system on an impossible crest and she screamed against her hand, falling limp as a ragdoll as it finished rolling through her. Rommy slowed his movements, then stilled, not withdrawing but simply watching her, liking the way the flush clung to her skin, and how her breasts rose and fell in the firelight of the rune.

“Sweet...mother….of mercy. What?” it took Telki a bit to gather enough breath to even manage that, but already she was reaching for him. No way was he getting away from her without the main course.

He smirked, twisting his fingers inside her in a beckoning motion. She was...very snug. He was glad she was married to a Nord, or he’d be worried. “You look happy,” he commented, as casually as if they were taking a stroll along Lake Ilinalta.

“I’d be a lot happier with you inside me. C’mere.” Telki tried to make her loose spaghetti arms work right to get those annoying pants of his out of the way. “You could help me with this.”

“Gladly,” he replied, pulling her up and against him with one arm while his other guided his pants down--carefully. Some things were rather painful to get caught at this point.

“Oh my.” Telki got a good look at ‘little Rommy.’ What an inappropriate name. She wondered idly precisely who and or what was hiding in his family tree for such an endowment. Tight fit was understating the case.

Taking in her expression, he hid his nervousness the usual way; with a joke, “My butt’s cute, too.” Did she want to stop?

“We’ll save that topic for another time. I’d much rather get closer with this side of you. You have a bad habit of trying to get out of arms’ reach.”

“Not this time,” he promised, sinking down onto the crate, carrying her down with him so that she straddled his lap, then carefully laying back, kissing her slowly.

“Oh bless the Divines, my favorite.” Her eyes twinkled at him. “I can hold you and cuddle you this way, and see just how much you enjoy it.”

His eyebrows shot up, amused. He’d chosen this so that she could set the pace, so he didn’t hurt her. She really was full of surprises, wasn’t she? Sliding his hands down, he caressed her hips and thighs. “Show me,” he challenged quietly, eyes bright.

“With pleasure.” Slowly, carefully, because he was a big boy, she slid him into place with a wiggle and a twist to situate him just right. Then she started to undulate on him. He was going to know precisely why she wore an Elseweyr dancer’s costume.

He gasped, hands tightening on her hips, then summoned Restoration magic to erase the bruises, letting the spell continue, to sink into and through her, barely able to think. “Oh,” he said quietly, surprised. He really couldn’t do much else for a moment other than to simply stare up at her in adoration. She smiled, and bent to kiss him, as if her very existence depended upon it, as she slowly, methodically, swirled her hips around him, alternating the patterns just as if she were dancing the sands dance.

Gasping her name out as he tore his lips from hers, he thrust up sharply, unable to help himself, though for the life of him he never wanted her to stop.

“With me love, ride with me.” Telki whispered against his jaw, hands buried in that lovely lovely head of hair, quickening her rhythm even as he lost his.

With a quick prayer to...whoever was listening...that he didn’t lose his mind, he pulled her back down to him, kissing her deeply and finding the rhythm she swayed to, moving with her. He wasn’t sure if the sparks were just in his vision or if he was actually making them.

Telki felt her pleasure rising again, and if the light show was anything to gauge by, so was Rommy. She hoped he was close, because silly as it was, she wanted him to find his pleasure with hers. “Love, I’m, oh…”

Her breathy moan drove him that last bit into the best kind of insanity. Pulling her down, he rolled on top of her, diving into her with everything he had, face buried in her shoulder as he unthinkingly chanted her name under his breath. The lights around them brightened, colors swirling in a kaleidoscope of patterns before they flared as he shouted. It took him a long moment to realize that it wasn’t just him; the basement really was shaking. Telki was chanting his name, and clinging like a creeping vine. Planting a soft kiss along her jaw, he very gently moved inside her, drawing it out.

“Hmmmmm, Rommy, I’ll give you half of forever to stop that. Maybe more, if you ask nice.”

Laughing breathlessly, he nibbled her earlobe a little, “You’ll like this, then,” he replied, laying a palm flat against her lower abdomen and sending Restoration into her. It was amazing what healing magic could do. And people barely used it.

“Oh. My. Stars.” Telki breathed, running appreciative hands up and down his back, hugging him close, and then it hit like a ton of bricks, and she tightened around him. “Mnnnggft!~” He’d just have to let her heal the bite mark on his shoulder now.

Many say that Daedric Princes are evil. The low laugh Rommy gave in reply to that certainly sounded so, brimming with satisfaction as it was. “No one has ever called me ‘Stars’ before,” he chuckled.

“Hmm,” Telki smiled in satisfaction. She noticed he didn’t object to the ‘my’ part. “You certainly had me seeing enough of them.” Two could play that game, though, and she clenched her inner muscles in a quick successive pattern. He might or might not hit the ceiling again, but it would just about certainly make his eyes cross. She got a bit more than she bargained for.

“You’re about to be seeing some more,” he warned her, pulling her to him once more.


	6. Opening the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterglow, constellations...and oh look, that Curious Box gets opened.
> 
>  
> 
>  

It had taken them most of the day to sort the dragon. It was huge, it was ancient, and it apparently liked swallowing things. Thanks to Mercutio’s heat enchants, he got to go diving for the stuff that had sunk in the bay. That left Erandur and Gideon to sort salvageable bone and scale from the rest of it. 

Not nearly as fun a job as it sounds.

“So, what do you think ….” Gideon stopped himself, and looked at the smirk riding Erandur’s face. “Nevermind.”

“Exactly. She’s going to want comfort, and he’s going to allow it to happen, because if ever there was a man needing the kind of love Telki’s capable, it’s him.”

“Why did we let him in so fast, again?” Gideon ripped the main wingbone loose from the skeleton, cursing when all the smaller bones fell on him in a shower. Smaller was a relative term; they hurt like a daedra.

“Honestly? I think we all saw a bit of ourselves there.” Gideon lifted an eyebrow at Erandur, and he added. “Well, maybe not you, mister perfect paladin.”

“No, I think you’re right.” Gideon smiled at a memory. “When you two found me, I was sure I was meant to carry out my duties alone, that it’d be too dangerous to let anyone in.” Gideon slid his eyes sideways at Erandur. “That I’d just lose them in the long run, and be left alone with the pain. Telki changed that.” 

“And I think she means to change that for him, too.” Erandur shook his head, as he sorted the freed bones. “Never thought I’d find myself with a lover, much less multiples.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing what fate decides for you.”

“Not so much fate, but Telki.” Gideon smiled. “She’s rather a force unto herself.”

“Dragonborn.”

“Guys, you’ll never guess what’s down there!” Mercutio broke the surface of the harbor water, smiling. “ I think I just made back everything I’d lost this trip.”

Of course that was when the ground rumbled, and the waves in the harbor roiled. “And I just lost it again. Three days! Couldn’t he have held out just three days more?”

“No.” It was spooky when those two did that simultaneous thing. 

They had to reassure the townsfolk that Dawnstar wasn’t about to fall in the sea, or be buried in a tidal wave, and reassured them again later when it happened again.

They eventually made it back to the inn with the scales, bones, and rest of the dragon loot, including a few pieces Mercutio wanted the ‘functionally immortals” to look at. It was curious enough he was willing to ask Sam, but he was nowhere in the common room, and both bedrooms had the doors open, so not there.

It took the second pass through the common room to spot Sam laying on the floor, right where the door to the basement ought to be.

“Sam?” Mercutio stopped to puzzle it out. It only took a moment. “Are you actually standing guard?”

The Breton grinned. “Well, Muffin, I could be, but no one would hire me until I got off the booze, and I don’t want to get off the booze.” 

“I meant, you’re actually ensuring someone’s privacy. I’m rather surprised.”

Looking him up and down speculatively, Sam sat up, pulling over a bowl of water he’d been beside. “Well, you’re a mage, so I’ll teach you something,” he said with a grin. “Have you ever heard of scrying?”

“And there it is.” Mercutio sighed, but had to admit, knowing how to scry would come in handy. “Heard of it, could never figure the mechanics of it, but for the love of Mara, not the pair of them, okay?”

Shrugging, he replied, “I’ll have you know from what I managed to see before he figured out I was doing it that Rommy is very good at what he does. Almost as good as Senna here,” he said, staring goopily into the bowl. 

“I am impressed. I didn’t think a human could bend that way.” Mercutio had sidled close enough to peer into the bowl, but hopefully out of Samtopus reach.

“She’s very talented,” Sam agreed, patting the floor beside him. 

“So how does this work?” Against his better judgement, Mercutio settled himself on the floor next to Sam, wary eyes watching his hands.

Reaching into his robe, Sam pulled out a small folded piece of leather that proved to hold a gold pin, a silver needle, and a pair of small scissors. “Poke yourself,” he said, handing the other mage the silver needle.

Brows furrowed, Mercutio complied. “Alright, then what?”

“Put three drops of blood in the water. Clear, clean water, mind. I melted snow. Most people have it blessed by a Priest, but I...prefer to just use really pure water. Not always a willing priest around.” 

Mercutio grabbed an empty clean bowl, filled it to heaping with bright white snow, and set it to melting by the fire. “While you’re up, find some wine. Not just for me, you actually need some.” 

Looking under the bar, Mercutio found a bottle of spiced wine from Solitude. “Spiced wine do?”

“For me, yes. For the spell, not so much. Even the cheap stuff will do, but it has to be just wine.” 

“Alto wine?” Mercutio blew off the dust. “This stuff’s a hundred years old?”

“Sounds tasty--I mean, perfect. Bring it here.” 

Mercutio brought the wine and the newly melted bowl of water to Sam, who smiled. “That’s right. Plant that tight butt right here, Muffin. Let the water settle, and add three drops of blood, then three of wine, and concentrate on this pattern,” dipping his finger in his own water bowl--promptly dissolving not only the image, but the spell, since he was the furthest thing from pure since Molag Bal--he drew a sigil on the cobblestone. “Picture it over the water.”

Mercutio followed directions to a tee, and waited to see if the image would form. After a few moments, a haze began to cloud the water, forming into the image of two people…

“Yeah, Rommy!” Sam crowed, staring at the image in glee. “Get in there!”

“Sam!” Mercutio yelped. 

“Well, he didn’t ward you out! And you’re the one apparently wondering what Telki was doing. That could just as easily have been an image of your childhood cat taking a shit.” 

Mercutio sat there, stunned horror on his face as he listened to Sam. “I didn’t, wasn’t trying...did not need to see that.” He rubbed his poor offended eyes. He did not need that comparison running through his head. He had enough insecurities.

Sam was peering into the bowl avidly. “You know, he’s never let me see him naked before? Now I know why! Look at him go! Do you have any idea how long they’ve been down there?”

“Mercutio, are you alright? Sam? What in the nine hells are you doing?” Erandur stood over them, image still in the bowl, and Mercutio couldn’t speak to save his soul.

“I thought you wanted Sam or Rommy to take a look at that thing you found in the dragon’s belly.”Gideon came up, lightly swinging his hammer. His brow lowered as he saw the image in the water. “Stop the scrying, now.” Mercutio quickly dumped the water. With both Gideon and Erandur there, he wasn’t as worried about angering Sam. “Functionally Immortal” covered a lot of ground, and usually meant crazy powerful. He’d just as soon not face that alone.

Smile just a shade dark, Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Whatever you think, he’s the one that directed the spell.” 

“You are the teacher, are you not?” Erandur tilted his head at Sam. “Did you teach him how to direct it where to go, or let natural inclination take the lead? Hardly strange a husband’s first thoughts are his wife.” 

Giving in, Sam laughed. “My first thoughts have been on your wife all afternoon, but I was warded out.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” Gideon dryly drawled. “Now, are you ever curious about other things, or just our wife’s body?”

“Well, I’ve been curious about Rommy’s but...” He glanced pointedly down into the puddle of water now blessedly clear of anything but reflections, “Now I’m just dying to try it out.” 

Thankfully? The building rumbled again. All three of Telki’s husbands exchanged looks. They actually began to worry about her health. She hated Shouting, usually.

Sanguine fell over, laughing delightedly. “I hope I can get him to unbend enough to tell me about this.”

“I don’t think so. He’s too much of a gentleman, and Telki’d kill him.” Gideon shared. “Now, do you want to see what sort of stomachache that beast let itself in for, or would you rather sit here daydreaming about what you can’t have?”

Glancing down at the floor as if he expected to be able to see through it, he scowled momentarily, then shrugged. “Bring on the old junk.” 

Gideon walked back shortly, with a large tower shield, and some other items wrapped in burlap. He eyed the shield, “Tell me about this first, if you can, please. It feels... well. Tell me what you can.”

Sam took one look at the thing and scrambled backwards, hiding behind Mercutio. “Get that thing away from me,” he slurred, glaring at it over the Imperial’s shoulder. He didn’t even reach for his butt while he was back there. 

Eyebrows high, Gideon bowed his head, and took it back to his room. He had no clue why he’d react that way, but, without the shield there, he hoped he’d tell him.

“Why did you react like that to it? What is it?” Mercutio was rather surprised.

“It’s freaking sweetness and light, that’s what,” Sam snapped, then leaned against the Imperial’s back. “But if you want to snuggle up and comfort me…” 

“Sweetness and light, and it freaks you out like that?” Erandur raised an eyebrow.

“You might have noticed my abilities are...of a darker persuasion,” Sam said, waving a hand as if it didn’t matter. “That thing...It belonged to the Divine Crusader. A pure hearted, brainless tool of the Nine. It makes my skin crawl. It’s like being around small, Aedric blessed children. And to top it off, it was made by Julianos.” 

Erandur and Gideon both began to chuckle. “And you hang around Telki willingly?” Erandur nudged Gideon. “No wonder you didn't want to put it down, it was like holding her.” 

“Dragonborn are different!” Sam snapped. “They can go either way. They can be fun. There is nothing fun about a mathemagician.” 

“Alright, point taken. What about these baubles, then?” Gideon proffered the burlap full of ancient magical artifacts, all looking pristine and new, and not resting for who knew how long in the belly of a dragon.

“That one’s for Kyne, that one is Snow Elf, that one is Maormer, and that one is just ugly,” he said, pointing. All smiles again now that the shield was away, Sam leaned his head on Mercutio’s shoulder. “You want to learn about me now, Muffin?”

Eyes widening as the implications filtered through his poor head, Mercutio tried to slide out of the Breton’s grip. “Not that way, I don’t!”

Sam pouted. “But you seem to be feeling left out. Let me help,” he suggested, puckering up.

“Sam, do I need to go get the shield?” Funny was funny, but Sam was wearing his patience thin with the constant chasing. Gideon folded his arms and gave Sam his sternest look.

Giving him a horrified glance, Sam paused, then smiled. “Are you feeling left out, too?” He fluttered his eyelashes cloyingly. 

“Sorry, but you’re missing key attractions for my tastes.” Gideon smirked.

Pausing for a minute, Sam reached down, removed his belt, then shoved it into his robes, using the pouches as makeshift breasts. “How’s that?”

“Nice try, but no.” Gideon shook his head, even as amusement rumbled in his chest.

“Too bad,” Sam sighed, “I was dreaming about the end of that happy trail last night.” 

Even Mercutio found humor in Gideon’s not quite stifled shudder, but quieted quickly at the raised eyebrow. He did owe him one, after all. While he was free of Sam’s octogrip, he edged around behind Erandur and Gideon. Let them deal with Sam.

Sam smiled winningly at them, lounging across the illusion-shrouded door. He hoped he was giving his long-time friend enough time, because these three were going to throttle him soon. And not even in the way he liked. 

The things he did for that man. 

“Well, I’ll assume that door will reappear when the lovebirds emerge. Tell Telki we’ll save some supper for her in our room, would you?” Erandur smirked at Sam, before wrapping arms across Merc’s and Gideon’s shoulders, and the three ambled back to their room. 

Blinking, staring after them, Sam’s brain refused to accept that for a moment. Scrambling back to his feet, he dashed after them. “Wait for mmeeeeeeee!” If they were going to comfort each other, he wanted in on it!

“You’d have to share space with that shield, and Mister Pole’s getting lonely in your room, isn’t he?” Gideon tossed off handedly over his shoulder.

Thinking on this a moment, he replied, “The Sheild of Divine Buttkissery can keep Mister Pole company,” he said. 

“I know you don’t care for it, Sam, but I have a feeling that shield will come in pretty handy in my line of work. I’m not letting it out of my care.”

Sam pouted.

“Ro Mul Laas!” And predictably, the Inn shook again. All three of Telki’s men shared a speaking look, trying desperately not to laugh.

 

~~~

 

Rommy’s hand moved lazily up and down Telki’s side, barely brushing against her as she finally succumbed to exhaustion. It...she had been...his mind was pleasantly dazed. He’d promised her stars, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t seen a few more than her. That in mind, he gazed up at the blank face of the magic wards he’d put up when he felt Sam probing, and summoned them to him, illusory lights flicking, nebulas forming of light and cobweb. They all sparkled into being as if he were looking up at the face of Aetherius. Raising his free hand, he set the Serpent in motion, much like it floated through the real sky. Occupying himself with that, he simply held her while she slept for a while, mind quiet for once. 

“Mmmm, pretties.” Telki yawned and stretched, snuggling back against her Rommy cushion. 

He kissed the top of her head, then tilted her chin up to brush his lips over hers. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he told her. 

“Almost as much as the man who made it for me.” Telki smiled and kissed him back.

Pulling her to him, another round could have started when a sudden rumble--not like a thu’um, which he was intimately familiar with by now--shook through them, and he pulled back, laughing down at her. 

“Sorry.” Telki gave him a sheepish grin. “I guess I worked up an appetite?”

“I think...we best get upstairs,” he said as he sat them up, eyes clouded. Back to reality. Or as close as he got, anyways. 

“Hey,” Telki tugged on Romulus’ arm. “Don’t forget, you’re not doing this alone anymore.”

“Oh, good, because facing all three of your husbands alone is something I’m not keen to do just yet,” he said, not entirely joking. In fact, he sounded stressed, running his hand through his hair worriedly. “There’s...a lot you don’t know yet. I told you that already. I’m babbling a little, aren’t I?”

Telki pulled on his arm to stop him, and turned him around to cradle his face with both hands. “Listen to me, okay? It doesn’t matter. We know you’re hiding things, but we touched souls, didn’t we? I know yours, and you know mine. That is all that matters, because that’s the meat of who we are, and your soul, love, is dazzling.” Telki smiled at him. “At this point, even if you told me you were a Daedra yourself, I wouldn’t run.”

The look he gave her was speculative enough to probably give her pause. “You know, in most magic circles, that was really rude. You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

“Sugar, I didn’t meld us, you did. You showed me your soul, I simply returned the trust.” 

“I just showed you a spell,” he protested, “Most people wouldn’t have looked any deeper. That’s actually pretty unique to you, you know. You always look deeper.” 

“Hmm, maybe it’s the eyes, after all.” She batted them at him playfully as she dressed.

Walking hand in hand toward the stairs, they paused at the illusory wood covering it. “Well, what do you know? Sam is good for something,” he said this last with great affection in his voice. 

“Awww, how thoughtful of him.”

He considered telling her that it hadn’t stopped the Daedra from spying on them--or Mercutio, for that matter--but thought better of it. That last was probably Sam’s fault anyway. “Feeling better?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts, “Ready to go see?”

Glancing up the stairs, he pulled her back against him and leaned down, kissing her deeply. Breaking away after enough time to make himself breathless, he grinned. “Now I am.”

“I’m glad, now carry me. My knees forgot how to work.” Telki was practically wheezing. What a kiss!

Laughing, he caught her up, kissing her one last time before they rejoined the others. “I am very loath to give you back,” he told her as he ascended the first stair. “And I am still very, very unready for...group anything involving you naked.”

“Honey, nobody said you had to participate in any sort of ‘group’ activity. We’ll go at your speed, and only what you’re comfortable with. I kinda read you that way, s’why I told you about Gideon, trying to reassure you that there’s room for you however you decide to fit in this thing.”

Pausing right before they shattered the illusion, he sighed, head hanging a little, “Is it selfish to want you to myself?” he asked. 

“Maybe a little, but it’s also natural and human. So, no worries. We’ll figure it out as we go.” Telki snuggled him close. 

Hoping this wasn’t going to be too embarrassing or awkward, he made it up the last few steps, only to stop and blink in surprise at the three men, Erandur and Mercutio bending over a sitting Gideon, who looked like he’d been hit in the back of the head with a board. 

“See? Toldja, no worries.” Telki studied Gideon. “Well, maybe a small one. Gideon, are you going to be alright?”

Sam snickered and hiccupped, sitting on the floor surrounded by bottles of mead. Rommy groaned, walking over and setting Telki on the bench next to a flattened Gideon. Not right next to. He was...probably a little more possessive than he should be at the moment, but he’d work on it. Looking into the other man’s face, he rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t.” 

“For some reason, this fetcher of a paladin thought he could keep up with a Sanguinist.” Erandur snorted. “I’d have more sympathy, but I honestly thought he knew better.”

Sanguine cackled when Rommy shot him an irritated look. “You could have killed him,” he scolded.

“He challenged me,” Sam argued smugly. “I’m--hic!--impressed, actually. He’s still conscious.” 

“It’s either the wish or the whole ‘blessed by Shor’ thing….why are you still conscious? I’ve seen burly Nords needing poison cures after that many bottles.” Telki was counting all the bottles around Sam. She honestly didn’t remember the Inn having that many.

“There are a lot of--hic!--benefits to being me,” Sam informed her, looking her up and down. “For that matter, why are you still conscious? That man once stopped a Grey March--I would have thought he’d tire you right out.” 

“A what now?” Telki was a bard, more, she was a curious Khajiit of a bard. Something as ominous sounding as a “Grey March” was certainly something she should probably know about, if it had happened anywhere in Tamriel.

“The Grey March is when the bloody Daedric Prince of Order tries to kill everyone in--” Sam pouted at Rommy, who was once again holding up a fist wreathed in the Silence spell, his face thunderous. 

“Rommy.” Telki pulled on his tunic. “Either you need to tell me just a little bit more, or I’m going to start asking Curious Box level questions.” She put one hand up to her head to get her thoughts in order, rather than tumbling about like unruly cats. “This pulling hen’s teeth method of learning about you is wearing, and it always comes across like you don’t trust me and that’s killing me. Does that make any kind of sense?”

“You’ll leave,” he told her bluntly, eyes bleak. There was absolutely no doubt in his voice, he simply sounded as if he were speaking something so true there was no room for something as flimsy as doubt. 

“Here’s my hand, here’s the door. See for yourself if that’s true.” Telki offered. He’d refused to try once, but it was all she had to prove him once and for all she meant it. Hell or high water, she’d stand by him.

Rommy hesitated. There was no way to say “If I look, don’t go poking around in my head while I’m at it” without sounding like he didn’t trust her. He did, but he just knew if she spotted that other door, she’d want to open it. And...she’d see the curse. Every bit of it. The bit that could turn into butterflies as easily as it could eat children. Madness came in all shapes and sizes, and he was them all now. There were parts of him that she would never be able to accept, but he could never be rid of now. All the Mad were his children, and he wouldn’t cast them aside just because their madness wasn’t as pretty as others. 

Taking her hands, he looked at the other men. “I need to borrow her for a bit longer,” he told them. “If...Please.”

“We rather have our hands full with a sodden paladin. Just bring her back in one piece, eh?” Erandur was already uncorking one of Telki’s brews for Gideon. Sam shrank away from them like they’d announced they had head lice. 

“I can’t really promise that,” he muttered, not looking at her as he led her to the door, but keeping a tight grip on her hand, closing his eyes at her reassuring squeeze. 

“You said it: Dra-gon-born. I’m a big girl, and I love you.” Telki kissed him and stepped through the door into a stone hallway. The place was almost methodically clean and constructed, with not enough room to insert a sheet of parchment between the perfectly aligned stones, as if it had been constructed by someone so perfectionistic they were considered ill with it. She raised an eyebrow, but, as there was no place to go behind her, started walking alone down the hallway. Whatever she needed to see, whatever she needed to face for Rommy’s peace of mind must be this way.

Grey stone walls rose up on either side of her, and a plush red carpet covered the floor, trimmed in gold. Little nooks framed by arches were set every few paces in the walls, containing pedestals that held the most curious items. One had a severed head in a metal helmet that covered the face. Another had a sword. Others were stranger, holding fish or bits of junk even a magpie would turn up its beak at. 

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Telki muttered. She was quickly gathering a clue who the ‘old man’ he did a favor for might be. Continuing, she eventually came to a large, oval-shaped grand hall, split in half by a long carpet leading to a throne. Half the carpet was red, the other purple. It clashed horribly. The banners, the flowers, even the color of the fire in the braziers, matched the red and purple theme. More stone stands lined the room, but they were empty at the moment. “Knock, knock, anybody home?” 

“Wh...Oh, by Azura! How did you get in here?” an enthusiastic Bosmer bounced over to her, his shocking yellow hair standing straight up from his head as if it were frozen at the moment of high wind. 

“The Bosmer that swears by Azura...Sweet mothering Mara.” Telki said under her breath. “Hello, um, I walked through a door Romulus showed me? And here I am? Where is here, anyhow?....as if I can’t guess.” She said the last under her breath to herself. No reason to borrow trouble if it weren’t, but she would just about bet money it was.

He gaped at her, then jumped up and down, clapping his hands. “The Grand Champion brought you here? By Azura by Azura! He just got back himself. He had to step out a moment--Stanley insisted. And he’s Mayor of Passwall now, so he looks after the new ones.” 

“Sounds like they’re well taken care of, then.” Telki nodded like it made perfect sense to her, while furiously flipping through her mental files for anywhere the name Passwall and New Ones made sense. No. Oh no. The name that did ring a bell was Stanley, the Talking Grapefruit. And that, she got from Sheogorath’s own lips. Yep. She was in an Oblivion Realm. Well, looked like she was going to get to prove whether she really meant it or not, wasn’t she? Though, just once, it’d be nice if Fate decided not to take her literally. Just once.

“Alrighty then, so, who do I need to meet, and where are they?” Telki girded herself mentally. Let’s see if she could run with the crazy as well as everyone seemed to think she could.

With an excited squeal, the Bosmer took her hand and began running down the carpet, not stopping until he got to the end, where a door should be. Here, there was a grate over a large, seemingly bottomless hole, with water from the streams running parallel to the room draining into it. He bounced off the wall and reversed, dragging her back toward the throne. “By Azura by Azura!” 

“Care to explain, shug? Cause we seem to be doing a whole lot of moving without actually going anywheres?” Telki had to admire his enthusiasm, though she could do with a few less ’Azura’s. She kinda wanted to wrap him up in a soft blanket for his own good.

He skidded to a halt, peering at her. “Who are you, anyway?” he asked cheerfully. “Can I take you to Passwall? I do love to be useful! I can be very useful!”

“Then let’s head to Passwall. You’re being very useful, thank you.”

With another excited squeal and a few dozen invocations to Azura, he turned and ran back toward the throne, which was backed by a large tree with a fountain at it’s base. A man stood there, and the elf skidded to a halt before falling, his body crumpling into around two dozen potatoes, every single one of them still invoking the Daedra of Twilight. 

“Well, I’ve heard of going to pieces, but really?” Telki inspected the potatoes to make sure they were okay, before directing her attention to the new person. “Hello, I’m Telki, who have I the pleasure of addressing?”

“I am Haskill,” the man said with tired dignity. There were wrinkles and bags under his eyes, but his balding forehead was strangely smooth and somewhat shiny. He had a sack over one arm, and he went about placing the potatoes inside it, setting them down next to the throne.

“Pleasure to meet you. I just got here, so any directions would be welcome. Hon, when was the last time you actually rested? You look plum tired.”

“I am my Lord’s Chamberlain,” he declared. “I really have no time for such things.”

“I can see how things around here could keep you busy, but you still have to take time for yourself, I mean, how can you keep going without resting?” Telki tilted her head in confusion.

Haskill regarded her for a long moment, face expressionless. She’d shortly learn this was its usual state. “I can see why he took to you,” he finally said. “Lord Sheogorath is waiting for you outside. You can find your own way I trust? I still have much to do.”

“Would you even accept an assistant, if one could be found that could help you?”

“I have an assistant,” he informed her, hefting the sack of potatoes. 

“Okay, more than one? Really, you’re worrying me, shug, and um. Okay, which door leads out?” Telki could tell it was a losing battle. She’d just have to trust Haskill knew what he was about, just as she expected her boys to trust her, right? It wasn’t like she knew thing one about this place, except it was crazier than a nest of bedbugs.

With a long-suffering sigh, Haskill deposited the bag in her arms. There was a collective, high-pitched “By Azura!” as the bag hit her chest, but he ignored it. “Do run along. He’s waiting.” 

“Okay?” she watched him stride away in bemusement. 

“Left!” the potatoes chorused. Telki looked to the left, and saw stairs. She started up them. They lead to a gallery, and she looked for which way to go. She saw the corridor seeming to go on forever to her right, windows before her showing the tops of a lot of mossy mushrooms, and to her left…“The door!” the potatoes cried. Telki opened the door and stepped through.

“Oh! It’s you again!” the Golden Saint right outside said, sounding surprised to see her. 

“Goldie! I am so glad to see you!” She was, she had liked Goldie, and she actually seemed rather sensible when she’d met her. She hoped she could get help from her on a) where to deposit the potatoes and b) where the heck she was supposed to meet Sheo. “Apparently, these guys are supposed to help me get to Passwall, where I think I’m supposed to meet Sheo. Know anything about any of this?”

Goldie glanced around the large courtyard, then simply walked around the outside of the double door. A figure very similar to her--save that she was purple and wore dark armor--stood guard at that door, looking for all the world as if she wanted to be fighting something. “Have you seen Lord Sheogorath?”

“He said it looked like rain and went back inside,” the Seducer said with a shrug, glancing up at the cloudless sky. 

Telki was in a quandary. Sheogorath was waiting for her, but he seemed to have gone back inside. What should she do? “Okay Sheo, your realm, your rules, where do you want me?” She asked out loud. She was screwed either way, might as well be screwed for being herself.

Telki suddenly found herself with her arms full of Bosmer in a sack. “Well, that’s definitely different. Can you walk now? Hmm? You’re nice, but not who I want in my arms.” Telki winked as she put the poor fellow down.

He looked at her in awe, “You...held the Grand Champion? By Azura!” 

“Oh honey, aren’t you cute.” Telki was afraid if she’d told him just exactly what all she’d done with his ‘Grand Champion’ his poor head might just explode.

Blushing, the Wood Elf jumped to his feet, grabbing her hand and yanking her through the door, back into the Palace, yelling for Azura. He paused when he reached the middle and let out a joyful cry, dropping her hand and running up to the lone figure on the stairs. “Grand Champion!” he cried, launching himself around the seated form. 

Romulus looked up, once more in his original mage robes of purple and red. He patted the little man on the back a moment before pushing him away gently. “Why don’t you go see if Haskill needs any help?”

“Of course!” he cried eagerly, racing off. 

“You didn’t! Rommy!” Telki shook her head at him. “Rommy, have you gotten a load of the bags packed under Haskill’s eyes? That lovely little fellow isn’t a help, he’s a hinder!”

“I always thought they complimented each other rather well,” he said, unable to repress a smile completely. His arms were resting on his knees, hands folded in front of his chin. “So... Welcome to the Shivering Isles, I guess. My home.” 

“Definitely different. I’m guessing this is the big secret you thought would send me running?” Telki looked around. “Where’s Sheogorath? I wouldn’t expect him to come down with a case of shyness. I was told he was waiting for me. In two different places, of course.”

Closing his eyes, Romulus took a deep breath, then rose to his feet all at once, turning and striding toward the throne. There was a cane across it with an eyeball at the top, which moved restlessly. He picked it up, turned, and sat on the throne.

“Y’know, one of these days, I’ll figure out Fate always takes me literally.” Telki gave herself a moment to steady her nerves. Romulus was Sheogorath. Sheogorath was Romulus. She gave herself permission to freak out a little (a lot) for a moment, while her poor head tried to sort it all out. The one thing that gave her any kind of footing at all was the stone cold truth that Romulus was worth it. Shaking her head and laughing to herself rather ruefully, she walked slowly and deliberately up to him while Romulus watched, memorizing her and sensing the whirling of her thoughts. 

He didn’t move, even as she placed herself in his lap, deliberately wrapping his arms around her, and whispered in his ear. “Still. Not. Running.”

“Then you’re the craziest one here,” he informed her, pulling her down to him. There was a startled, “By Azura!” off to the side as he kissed her fiercely.

“But really, get poor Haskill some real help.”

Rommy scoffed, “He’s fine. That man could face down Alduin and just cough politely and insist he had better things to do.”

“Oh, so I should be upset with him he left the job to me to sort out?” Telki teased. 

“Yes, actually,” he laughed, staring up at her wonderingly. 

“Hi, you.” She kissed his nose.

Hands moving downwards a bit, he whispered, “You know, I hardly ever use this throne.”

Telki laughed. “Maybe you need better memories associated with it?” She buried both hands in that lovely soft brown hair, pulling his face closer to drop little kisses all over. Which made her pause. “Holy Mother of Mercy!” She turned wide eyes back to him. “Sam really is….and ‘Mina is…”

Romulus’s laughter rumbled through the room. “Yes, your husband did just have a drinking contest with the Prince of Debauchery.” Hopefully, it would be awhile before she thought to ask too much about Vaermina. 

“..I need to lay my head down a moment, if you please? Hold me?”

“Always,” he replied, moving her legs to settle her a little less...suggestively, and simply holding her, stroking her hair. Of course, this put her face right at the crook of his neck, and it desperately needed kissing. If he didn’t want her nibbling there, he shouldn’t smell like scones. She did say she needed a moment.

Rommy made a little sound of surprise, his hands tightening on her, “I thought you needed a moment to come to grips with this?” he reminded her.

“Nibbling your sconey smelling neck was more fun.” Telki nuzzled in. “It’ll probably take a while for all of it to really sink in, but it won’t change anything. You’re still worth it. Every bit of it. That won’t change.”

“You might still change your mind when you see the Isles, but...I’m not changing them, Telki. These people...they have nowhere else to go. The Saints and Seducers can keep them from hurting each other too badly, but in Mundus? They’re abused. They’re scorned or feared or executed. I’m not turning my back on any of them. Even...even the ones that hurt others if left to it.”

Telki mulled that over a bit. “Why do you think I would ask you to quit doing something that actually protects people, especially ones that can’t help themselves?” Telki thumped his nose lightly. “What I will expect, is for you not to... how shall I put this? Emulate the behaviors of your more extreme and damaging wards?” Telki nodded at him, as if her point was proven. “So, precisely what became of the Orc head?”

“I heard him crying sometime my first decade here and took him back to Malacath. Rather surprised him, actually…” he revealed with a shrug. He wasn’t exactly sure what had surprised the other Daedra so much; if anyone understood suddenly undergoing a dramatic and traumatic transformation, it was a mortal that just became the Mad God. 

She grinned as if given a grand gift. “ And that, m’love, is why I’m not running.” She nuzzled in. “See? Totally worth it.”

“Well,” he said so quietly it might have been to himself, “at least you’ll fit in.” With that, he pulled her to him again, threading his fingers through her hair and setting the cane aside. It swiveled to watch them and Rommy draped Telki’s shirt over it, not bothering to remove it by mundane means. Telki kissed a trail up from the crook of his shoulder to his jaw, nipping at his lips until he kissed her breathless. Meanwhile, his hands were busy proving that he hadn’t forgotten how sensitive her breasts were. There was a muffled squeak and the sound of a dozen potatoes falling to the floor, but he didn’t pause, lifting her so that she straddled him and replacing his fingers with his lips. 

Telki gasped with the first suckle, and her fingers convulsed in his hair, she found herself grinding down on his lap, needing more of him, and he was still in his pants. This would never do. “Why are we still clothed?” she asked as she peppered little kisses all along the helix of his ear.

Tilting his head back, he regarded her through molten gold eyes. “I don’t want to go slow this time,” he warned her. “If you need a little more time, don’t…”

“Me neither. Off!”

Well, that was pretty clear. Their clothing vanished as if it had never existed, his hands going instantly to where her legs joined, caressing her, seeing if she was ready. She was very ready, grinding against his fingers ready. Sliding downwards slightly, he positioned himself, kissing her as he guided her down.

“Oooh darlin’, yes, please and Thank you!” Kissing him back with all the feeling pounding time through her veins. There was so much, so suddenly, she felt she might not contain it all.

He hadn’t been lying about not going slow, and now that she knew--really, truly knew--he wasn’t holding anything back. Magic was as much a part of him as music was of her, and he caressed her with a thousand tendrils of it as he thrust into her, unaware of anything but her. Telki did the only thing she could in reply, she opened up fully; letting him see her soul, warts, consuming love, and all. Very, very gently, he did the same, shielding her away from the dangerous bits so that while she was aware of them, they could not hurt her. She saw his Blade past and a million little things he’d done for his subjects, including those he’d been forced to kill, and she felt the strange, airy joy of turning into a swarm of butterflies.

Telki shared what she could: warm memories of evening gatherings with the caravans, music around a bonfire, teasing and romping through the green hills of rural Cyrodiil with Rihandi, a million memories of apprenticing to different masters, finding Skyrim, finding she’s Dragonborn, the million things done being Dragonborn, though she gloated for a moment over kicking Delphine and Esbern out of Skyhaven temple over Paarthurnax. Her blood opened the door, that made it hers, not theirs. 

His laughter rumbled through them both, lips moving to leave small marks on her neck even as his hands soothed down, finding the small, too-easily overlooked spot and running his thumb over it. Telki spasmed, though she did not break her dancer’s rhythm. Impossibly, he sped up, holding her to him with lips and magic and hands as he decided to finally show her exactly what a Daedric Prince was capable of doing. Telki held on for dear life and enjoyed the ride. She thought the cascade of sensation with Rommy in the basement was an avalanche; it was but a small pebble compared to what she felt this time. She gasped as the first waves crashed over her, seizing and shaking in Rommy’s arms as it took her. She might well have blacked out for a moment.

Pulling her back to him when she arched out of his grasp, he groaned as her body’s rhythms undid him, slowing slightly until the colored lights faded from his eyes (and throne room), holding her against him. Propping his head on her shoulder, he opened hazy eyes and blinked. “Don’t you have stuff to do?” he asked. There was a shuffling as the members of his court that had snuck in departed, half of whom having very little idea of what had happened, and the Duchess of Dementia wanting to know where Telki had gotten her fabulous dress. 

“So, that happen often, here?” Telki was muzzily aware of Rommy telling someone to leave, and someone wanting to know about a dress? Eh, she couldn’t be bothered right now, she felt entirely too good.

“To my knowledge, this has never happened before,” he told her quietly, soothing his hands up and down her back. He wasn’t really bothered by the watchers; he’d spent far too much time around Sam.

“Hmmm, now I really feel specials.” Telki nuzzled in, one hand running through his hair, the other memorizing every inch of his back, running feather light caresses across as much as she could reach of it.

“Good; you are special,” he retorted, listening to the sound of water fonting behind them at the base of the Tree of Madness. Well, technically in front of Telki. He’d have to remind her not to climb it at some point “How much trouble are you going to be in when your Priest and Paladin find out you’ve disregarded their warnings about caution and had sex with a Daedric Prince? Willingly. On his throne, no less?”

“Too late, they already voted you in.” Telki grinned at him. “No take backs.”

“Ah, good. I still come with Sanguine, of course,” he reminded her.

“I’m going to be spending a very long time explaining to you that you’re still worth it, I see.” Telki sifted his long brown locks through her fingers. She loved playing with his hair.

Grinning, he ran his hands in small circles from her thighs to her hips, just watching her, “How badly would they react if I kept you here all night?”

“Can you send a note that won’t scare all of Dawnstar, or even just the Inn’s people?” 

“Oh! Sure,” he turned his hand, a robe materializing in it, which he draped over her shoulders, effectively concealing them both. Well, the very interesting bits, anyway. Just because he didn’t mind a little voyeurism on the part of his subjects didn’t mean he was going to actively encourage it. The Seducers would have kittens, and the Saints would have fits. 

Telki narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Just how much were you laughing at me and mine while you were playing ‘functionally immortal’ anyways?” 

“I was not laughing--well, I was, but not about that--I was actually a bit petrified you’d figure it out on your own. I didn’t want to be a Prince for a while, I just wanted to remember what it was like to be me.”

“I was trying not to open the Curious Box. Really, there were clues, and some I just didn’t, couldn’t, bring myself to think about. You aren’t the only one who likes to remember simpler times.” Telki prodded him. “And why must ALL the Daedra be interested anyways?”

“I know,” he leaned up, kissing the tip of her nose. “In answer to your second question...did you know that you’re technically a demigod? Seriously, because you are.” 

“For love of!” Telki huffed. “Fate, would you kindly shove off? Just for a little while?” Telki turned to Romulus. “Which one would Fate be, anyways?

“I’ll tell him,” he promised. “And that would be Hermaeus Mora, or, as our family members call him, Yuck.”

“I’ve a bone or three to pick with him, then.” Telki shuddered. “Is he really all tentacally? Cause really, ew.”

“Um...I’d really rather you never met him,” he replied, a little nervous. “And yes, he is very, very tentacally. And he has far too many eyes.” 

“I’ll pen a letter, you can deliver it.”

“He’ll be so pleased to see me,” he said dryly. “I’ll send Haskill.” He paused a long moment, looking down at his staff, which looked back, as if he were considering the wisdom of saying something. 

“Rommy, what’s the matter?” Telki cuddled as close as she could. “What’s with the serious worried face?”

“About Mora…” should he tell her that the other Daedra had his own Dragonborn? Knowing Telki, she’d march right into Apocrypha to rescue him, and given what little he knew about the man, that was right near the top of the list for Very Bad Ideas. Might as well tell her the other part, though. “He’s...collected Dragonborn over the years. Usually Septims. And a Septimus, but he wasn’t Dragonborn. Only, something tells me he wouldn’t let you remain in Mundus like the rest of them, and I don’t think he’d give you back.” 

“Pffft, like I’d have anything to do with him, especially after what he did to poor Septimus. I told him to take a flying leap.” Telki looked at Romulus. “I would have thought for sure he was one of yours, as off as he was. I think he’d have been safer with you, honestly.

“You’ve met him?” he yelped, instinctively holding her tighter. 

“Kinda? He looked like a big ball of black nothingness, and said I’d wind up working for him.” Telki sniffed. “Like I ever do what I’m ‘supposed’ to do.” 

“You saved the world,” he pointed out teasingly. “I’m pretty sure you were ‘supposed’ to do that.” 

Telki grinned impishly. “Yeah, I suppose there’s that.” Telki yawned, and laid her head back on the very comfy shoulder behind her. “I told Mora I’d work for him when the Deadlands freeze over.” Her jaw cracked on a yawn. “I figured that was more likely than him actually growing a personality.”

“You are never working for Mora,” he said firmly. “He’s...he’d take everything you are and use it against you, trying to twist you into something else. He’s done it before. Molag Bal isn’t the only Prince that enjoys breaking mortals.” 

“I kinda figured, looking at poor Septimus. I never want to, never wanted to, and won’t, especially now I got my own darling Daedra in my corner, huh?”

“Mora tries to take you now, he’s never going to get his books back in order,” Rommy snorted. “If Jyggalag can institute the Dewey Decimal System in revenge, I can rearrange things, too.” 

“Who’s Jyggy?”

“That would be the Daedric Prince of Order. He’s my...well, he thinks of me as a friend, anyway,” he said wryly. “I send him a cheese basket now and then.” 

“He probably won’t like me. I tend to give orderly sorts hives.” Telki grinned impishly. “‘You think that’d be enough to put Mora off?”

“I wish,” he said honestly, then turned to look to the side. “Are you over being potatoes, yet?”

There was a squeak that could have been “Yes,” as his Adoring Fan came over, hiding his eyes behind his hands but peeking through his fingers. It wasn’t Telki he was looking over, though, so Rommy let it slide. “Can you deliver a message for me?”

The Wood Elf’s face brightened with joy. “Really? By Azura by Azura by Azura!”

“You know the last time you said it too much, and she showed up?” he reminded him. “Remember how you wound up a bunch of spuds?” 

“Meep!” was the closest approximation to the sound that came out then, as the Bosmer actually stuck his fingers in his mouth. 

“Now, there is a mortal inn in Dawnstar. Go there and tell the two Aedra-touched men and their mage friend that Telki will be spending the night with Romulus. Not Grand Champion. Not Sheogorath. Rom-u-lus.” 

“Of course, Grand Champion! I’m only too happy to help!” he squealed, racing off.

Watching his Fan hurry off to do his bidding, he looked back up at Telki. “You know, I don’t even know his name? I’ve asked him hundreds of times, but he just gets all bashful that I care to ask and stutters himself into potatoes.” 

“Hmm, think he’ll be too starstruck to tell me? I suppose I could find out?” Telki gave him a thoughtful look. “How do you know when someone’s ‘one of yours’ anyways. How does that even work?”

“I can sense madness the same way you can feel water in the air,” he said with a shrug, “Or the way your Boys smell bacon. It’s...I can just feel it with all senses.”

“So when you said ‘how can you be insane without being insane’... were you checking me?” Telki looked flummoxed. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“I checked. I couldn’t sense it, so I looked to see if it was ready to burst out. You’re rather pleasant the way you are, so I figured if it was about to burst out I’d...nudge it back in.” 

“Aww, so, what’s the prognosis, Healer? Am I fit to move in?” Telki settled back in his lap, comfy where she was.

“Well, you’re not my normal kind of crazy, but I’ll take you,” he declared, sweeping her up and striding up the stairs and down the hall, even though the robe only really covered her. “Oh, hey Haskill.”

“My Lord,” Haskil replied as he walked by, completely unperturbed.

Rommy smiled, “He looks so happy. That is a caring man right there.” 

“So why does he always look ready to keel over with exhaustion?”

“He doesn't get enough exercise. I should send him to Skyrim sometime. Oh, wait…”

Telki shook her head and laughed. She tweaked his nose. “Honey, I think your Sheo is showing.”

Rommy looked down. “Where? Wait...you don’t want to call it that, do you?”

She followed his gaze, and laughed. “No, no that’s not what I meant. Honestly, how does that even fit in your pants?”

“Still a mage,” he replied with a wink. “Allow me to demonstrate…” he said, mentally opening the door to his room and striding inside.


	7. Reckonings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showdowns and overdue talks are had. Hang on to your hats, folks, it's a wild ride.
> 
> This lovely image would not be possible without the lovely Talents of http://janus3003.deviantart.com/ Why do I mention this? Because this man does some absolutely magical render work. Did i mention he takes commissions? He totally takes commissions, why aren't you there yet?

 

“Y’know, they’ve been gone quite a while now. It’s not like she can’t take care of herself, but still.” Mercutio was absently running his hands up and down his thighs in a nervous gesture.

“I know. She’d have at least sent word.” Gideon, much recovered, was idly flipping his hammer, tossing it as easily as most men tossed a coin.

“So where might she be, that she couldn’t send word easily?” Erandur asked, rubbing his brow as the worry levels in the room rose exponentially.

 

Sam watched this with an amused quirk to his lips, sipping his own home brew that would probably kill a mortal after two swallows. These three were lucky they were entertaining, honestly, he’d been know to offer a few gulps to mortals that annoyed him.

The door burst open and a whirlwind came inside. A whirlwind almost as short as Telki, with bright blond hair that stood straight up, and an unusually round face for a Bosmer, suggesting that he had...Reikling, perhaps?...in his family tree somewhere. Bouncing on his toes, he looked around the inn once before brightening when his eyes lighted on Gideon. “By Azura, by Azura! Look how tall you are!” he cried, running over and jumping up and down to try to look into the man’s eyes. His highest bounce made it to the his chin. “By Azura!”

“Can we help you, serra?” Asked Erandur, since Gideon was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Mercutio had no such compunctions, and was nearly falling off the bench laughing. His appearance definitely cut the tension that had been building.

“Ooh! Look at that hammer! It’s so shiny! You’re all shiny with Aedraness!” he enthused, still bouncing in a circle around the Nord. Behind them, Mercutio hit the floor. Gideon’s eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline. “Oh! By Azura!” he stopped suddenly, hands pressed to his cheeks, looking around. “Is this Dawnstar?”

“It is.” Gideon had finally found his voice, and Mercutio was reduced to gasps behind him, with a random occasional chuckle. 

The Bosmer scratched his head. His hair flattened momentarily, then sprang back up. “I thought it would be...brighter.”

“Snowstorms tend to have that effect. Listen, friend, is there something we can help you with?” Gideon finally found his voice, though his eyebrows may have gotten stuck.

Freezing completely, the Wood Elf turned to him with wide, shining eyes. “You want to be friends?” he asked, something suspiciously like a sniffle in his voice.

“Yes?” Gideon was wondering precisely where this poor fellow’s keeper was, if the very idea of friends was that traumatic.

“By Azura by Azura!” he squealed, launching himself at the man. He clung on in an exuberant hug for a bare second before vanishing in a hail of potatoes.

“What in Mara’s name?” Erandur practically lept from his bench, trying to ascertain precisely what had happened.

“Please don’t kick me,” the potato nearest his foot cried.

After a moment of gaping in disbelief, Mercutio shook his head and handed a burlap sack to Erandur. His position already on the floor had made it easy to spot it forgotten behind the table. “Why don’t you help the fellow pull himself together?” Mirth still danced in Mercutio’s eyes.

“Yes please! By Azura! It’s cold down here, and someone might get hungry,” the potatoes chorused, sounding quite distressed.

“No worries, little friends, everyone just had supper.” Gideon and Erandur quickly gathered them into the sack, and then sat there, wondering what to do with him. “So, are you...uh...looking for someone?” Gideon tried again, the silence had been rather uncomfortable, and there were only so many ‘by Azuras’ he could handle.

 

“Your keeper, perhaps?”

“Oh, no! I belong to the Grand Champion. He let me follow him and carry his stuff and look after his child and fed me and took care of me, even when I’m potatoes.” The sentence was very broken up as one potato after another took turns speaking, and somewhat muffled by the sack.

Erandur seemed to be thinking, his fingers tapping lightly together in front of his face. “Your Grand Champion, would his name be Romulus, by chance?”

If potatoes could sound adoring, these ones oozed it, “You  _ know _ the Grand Champion?” they gushed.

“That sounds like a yes.” Gideon sighed. He didn’t much care for where the growing number of clues lead.

Mercutio decided to add to the chaos. “Yes, we know a Romulus; he’s currently entertaining our wife.”

“Oh, you belong to the nice cat-lady?” the potatos asked. “I think she’s confused. She called me sugar. I’m potatoes!”

“You know Telki?” Gideon rolled his eyes at ‘sugar’. “Yes, you do. Do you know where she is? She’s been gone for a while now.”

“So you’re the Aedra-touched ones with the mage?” one potato asked. “I was supposed to tell you something….” Another potato hummed in thought. “By Azura! What was… Oh! She’s in New Sheoth, spending the night with the Gran...with Romulus. Rom-u-lus.” He sounded breathless just saying the name.

All three men closed their eyes as the last puzzle piece fell into place. Their wife was off in the Shivering Isles with a ‘functionally immortal’ Grand Champion of Sheogorath. Mercutio immediately jumped up to pace, hands flexing in agitation. Gideon and Erandur sat and simply tried to think through all the implications. None of them were exactly encouraging, besides, they knew Telki. She had decided on Romulus, and nothing short of becoming someone other than Telki could change her mind.

 

“I believe, Sam, you need to shed some light on this situation.” Gideon folded his arms, looking to the Breton as both Erandur and Mercutio bookended him in support.

 

A devious smirk crossed the Daedra’s face as he leaned back, reaching for a new bottle of wine. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

 

~~~

 

Telki stretched. She felt awesome, the bed was nice and soft and the sheets silky on her skin. She pouted to herself when she realized she had enough room to stretch. Vaguely, she could hear Rommy talking, and someone answering. Curiosity was going to make her get up. Dang it; lazing in the bed was so nice.

“Good morning, Mistress,” Haskill said from beside the bed.

“Sweet mothering mercy!” Telki jumped a half foot. “Haskill, I would consider it a personal favor if you could make more noise, so you don’t scare the life out of me, and I don’t wind up throwing something at you in surprise.”

“My apologies,” he replied, as unflappable as ever. “Lord Romulus wishes to apologize for the state of your clothing, and asked me to present you with this dress for your approval.” He held out a long swath of green silk for her to look at.

“Thank you, Haskill.” She’d let the ‘mistress’ slide for now. Not thinking about it, nope. She took the green silk and examined it. She saw it was actually a creamy gold silk with delicate vines and leaves so cluttered and interwoven that it gave the impression of solid green from a distance.

Haskill stood there for another long moment before turning away, as if he were examining something about her—or had perhaps gotten so used to Rommy not caring that he’d needed a moment to remember not everyone wanted him to watch them change. Not that Haskill had any interest in that. He had far too many duties to be disporting in such an unseemly manner.

“Haskill, I hate to be a bother, but is there a changing screen or something? I’m not in the habit of changing in company.” Husbands did not count, they had a permit.

“I will await you in the hallway,” he said, leaving and closing the door. As it opened, the voices became loud enough to tell one was Rommy, singing, and the other was a small child, giggling. Telki could feel her heart melting and puddling in her stomach. Totally worth it, and she’d never get tired showing him so. She quickly pulled the dress on, and went to join them. She’d see about getting some leggings or something, because practical dresses were not.

Rommy’s voice was joined by the child’s again. The language was not Common, and Telki thought that Aldmeri had never sounded so good. She was no expert, but she knew enough to ask the way to the inn. The song wound to a close just as she reached the throne room, being replaced with a complicated stringed instrument playing gentle, bell-like tones up and down the scales. Telki was transfixed by both the artistry of the instrument, and the beautiful sound it made. At least, until it gave a discordant twang at her entrance.

A little Altmeri girl jumped up from where she sat bouncing small hammers off a set of strings set onto a lacquered trapezoidal box and hid shyly behind Romulus, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Well hello, who was doing all that beautiful singing I heard? Do you think you could teach me that song?” Telki folded herself on the floor, near the pair, but not so close she’d crowd the shy girl. She gave her exactly five minutes before she’d be comfortable enough to sit with her, and let her hug her. Kids always needed hugs, from her experience.

 

“Good morning,” Romulus greeted her, his warm golden eyes seeming to glow when he looked at her. “Sleep well?”

 

“Yes I did, though I woke rather cold and lonely.” Telki pouted at him. Waking alone was not one of her favorite things.  She let her gaze drop back to the adorable little girl, encouraging Rommy to answer her earlier question.

 

“This is Murril. One of the Seducers brought her back from the Summerset Isles a short time ago, and she is still unused to those of other races. She’s heard some...awful stories, so please forgive her if she seems unsociable.”

“Oh no worries. She can have all the time she needs. Though maybe…” Telki tilted her head in thought. “Maybe a story might help that along?” She held a hand up to her mouth, as if sharing a secret. “I’ve been told I can tell a good story now and again.”

Rommy glanced down at Murril, who peeked her head out from behind him to regard the woman. She had green eyes and reddish-blond hair, and her ears were much too large for her head, sticking out like a fox’s. Her cream and green dress had swirling patterns embroidered into the tattered hems, and little bare feet peeked out from under it, making her look like something out of a Bosmeri children’s tale.

“I’ve heard it said that actual factual fairies live on Summerset Isles, and I happen to know a story about one that lived in a peony bush. Would you like to hear it?”

The head nodded once before ducking behind Rommy, little arms clasped about his. 

 

“Okay, so, one morning, Littlepiddle the fairy woke up in her peony, and noticed that it was raining so hard, it was in danger of washing her bush away…”

The girl listened in rapt attention, and it wasn’t long before Murril actually came out from behind Rommy to listen, eyes wide. She never let go of his arm, but she laughed and gasped at all the right moments, though she never spoke. Rommy sat back and watched, grinning with shining eyes.

At length, Haskill came in and announced that dawn was nearing in Dawnstar, and would they like to return there? It seemed playtime with the munchkin was over. Telki hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her brood until it was time to leave.

“Shall we just show up with rashers of bacon and eggs to wake the Boys?” Telki thought out loud. Though usually, it was the cooking of the bacon that actually woke them. Decisions, decisions.

Rommy turned to Murril and suggested gently, “Why don’t you go see if they can send us some breakfast to the Dawnstar inn? Warn the cook that Sanguine’s there, too.”

 

Telki had a hard time holding in her grin. It was odd. On one hand, she had a hard time equating Sam with Sanguine, and at the same time, wondered how in Nirn she didn’t see it earlier.

 

Murril nodded like her head was fit to bob off, taking off like a shot. Rommy watched her for a moment, a bittersweet expression on his face.  “The youngest and oldest are the hardest,” he told her, still gazing after the child. “And they were the ones that the Isles ate up before my time. I try to keep track of them, as best I can, anyway. There are those here that would hurt them, and it takes some doing some days to ensure they don’t cross paths.”

 

“The Isles ate up the oldest and youngest? Rommy, what?” Telki was very confused.

 

He gave her a somber look, “They’d enter, and never be seen again.”

 

“What? Oh no!”

 

Giving her a warm little smile as he slid an arm around her waist, he assured her, “I’ve got it covered. Pretty much, anyway.” Accidents still happened--these were mad children, after all--but it was nowhere near as common as it used to be. 

“Well, um, I guess it’s Dawn in Dawnstar, and I am really missing my munchkins now. I need to collect my guys and visit the homesteads.”

“You don’t keep them all together?” Rommy asked, rising and holding out a hand for Telki.

“After the fifth whoopsie in the alchemy tower, I decided it was better to keep Blaise and Francois at different homes. It gives the kids more room, and they do swap out every so often, so nobody gets to missing anybody.” Telki grinned. “It also seems to help grownup patience to have fewer to ride herd on.”

“Do you need to borrow a few Saints or Seducers? They’ve really gotten the hang of babysitting these last few centuries,” he offered. 

 

“I think I’ve got it covered. Goldie didn’t much seem to appreciate being brought to Mundus to Sanguine-sit.”

 

The look he gave her was very telling. “I doubt any of your children can be as trying as Sanguine.”

 

“You haven’t met Blaise, yet.”

 

Interest sparked orange his irises. “One of those, is he?”

 

“Five alchemy towers, Rommy, what do you think?”

 

“Sounds like my kind of kid,” he admitted, eyes turning inward as if he were remembering something. 

 

“Then you’ll simply have to be around enough to influence him properly, huh? Help him channel some of that mischief.”  Telki fluttered her lashes, tempting him.

 

He quirked an eyebrow, “Want something?” he inquired. 

 

“You, as often as I can have you.”

 

“Careful,” he cautioned teasingly, giving her a squeeze, “I’ll keep you here another day, and my messenger potato has yet to return.” He wasn’t worried, though; he had ways of keeping tabs on him.

“How long you need to stay here, anyhow? Why can’t I have you on Mundus more often? It’s not like a Mad God to have to respect rules or something.” Telki winced. Apparently, whiney cat was ascending.

 

Wincing himself, he told her, “When I leave for very long, things tend to...unravel. The people here--I mean, they’re all batty, but when I leave, it’s like...they panic. Once I’m gone, whatever keeps the most violent of them content goes away with me, and whatever keeps the manic ones manic rather than panicked also goes. It’s a bloodbath.”

 

Telki looked at him, horrified. “So while you were down with us at the Inn?”

 

“I can leave for short spurts,” he hastened to assure her. “They’ve learned that I come back. Some of the elves, though, they’re old enough to remember the Grey March. They know if the throne sits empty for too long, there’s a chance Jyggalag will want his realm back.”

 

“Seriously? They can’t remember the whole reason they have you is because you settled the Jyggy issue? It’s enough to make me want to yell at them ‘til they went sane.” Telki huffed. “I want my Rommy, dang it.”

 

Rommy had to laugh, pulling her towards him and kissing the tip of her nose. “If you want to yell at someone, yell at Jyggalag. I’d have a fun time watching that.”

“Point me at him, I’ve a few choice words for him on quite an array of matters. Is my Wabbajack still in one piece?”

“The Wabbajack will not work on the Daedric Prince of Order. Trust me. I tried,” he sighed gustily.

“Oh, then I’ll just borrow Malacath’s Scourge, he owes me anyhow.” Telki’s eyes twinkled. “Think it’d beat some sense into him?”

“Somehow, I think you’d be the one thing he doesn’t predict coming,” he laughed, opening the door for them. “After you, mi’lady,” he said courteously. 

 

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Telki bobbed a curtsy, about to step through when Murril raced up, looking anxious and holding a note. 

 

Rommy took it and glanced over it, groaning. “Stanley needs to see me again. I did sort of...wander off when I talked to him before. I better go see what he needs. You go on ahead, I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Don’t make me have to come back to get you, boyo. I best see you on my side soon. Hear me?” Telki waggled a severe finger under Rommy’s nose.

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he assured her, pulling her in for a lingering kiss. “You’re much more pleasant than any grapefruit, especially one with opinions.”

 

“Which is funny, considering my own plethora of opinions. See you soon, Love; don’t dawdle.” Telki stepped through, blowing him a kiss as she went.

 

After they went their separate ways, Haskill walked into the room carrying a pile of blankets, which he set next to the throne. Looking about, he sighed. His Lord had suggested they have some on hand if the new Mistress were to meet any of her new subjects, but he supposed he’d have to put them away for another day.

  
  


~~~

  
  


“So, that’s it in a nutshell: your wife is making time with the current Mad God, and you’ve been drinking with good ol’ Uncle Sanguine.”  Sam gave them his smirkiest smirk while delivering the conclusion to his whole Daedra explanation. He had to give it to ‘em, the mortals were taking it better than he expected. They might also still be in shock, if the glazed looks were anything to go by. He took a swig of mead, thoroughly enjoying himself. 

 

“Honestly, Sam? Don’t you think you’re laying it on just a little thick?” Telki rolled her eyes as she appeared just in time for Sam’s wrap-up.

 

Sam’s face lit up and he waved enthusiastically. “Hello, Telki! Are you joining the family or leaving his sorry mad behind to...can I have him?”

 

“I’m keeping him, and you’re still adopted, so shush already.” Telki quickly disappeared in a hug pile as all three of her Boys crowded around to hug her, and check her over.

 

“Love, are you alright?” Erandur, always the concerned one, carefully ran hands over her after nearly hugging her breathless.

 

“Where’s Romulus?” Bless his strategist’s heart. He was probably worried whatever was keeping Rommy would be a problem he’d have to solve. 

 

“Did you hear the nonsense he’s expecting us to believe?” and that’d be her arrogant ass, same as always.

 

Before she had time to answer, the wind that had been whistling about the eaves turned into an unholy roar, and the snow pelting the walls became an audible hiss.  Sam yelped and dove behind the mortals as the entire Inn shook on its foundations, but the mortals were not standing still or hunkering down, they were heading outside. He peeked over the table and realized they had no idea what they were dealing with. Or possibly they’d realized he’d drunk all the mead and desperately needed a stiff drink, and were off to find one. Somehow, he doubted it.

 

“Isn’t it rather odd for another dragon to be attacking the same place, and so soon?” Mercutio huddled behind Gideon’s broad back from the snapping wind.

 

“Maybe the storm lured it here, or maybe having so much supernatural activity did? I don’t pretend to understand how dragons think.” Gideon hefted his hammer in a lazy arc. “I only need to know how to ground them.”

 

“What are you idiots doing? Get back in here!” Sam clawed at Erandur’s arm, dragging him back inside. “That’s no dragon. I  _ wish _ it were just a dragon!”

 

Even as Mercutio and Gideon turned to deal with Sam’s seeming breakdown, a thundercrack from the harbor rolled through the air, and a woman’s voice raised in anger rang over the wailing wind. “Where is he? How  _ dare  _ he return to my town!” she shrieked, whirling in a splay of dark skirts that flitted from one colored pattern to the next. Long dark hair in intricate braids coiled down her back and around her head, seemingly immune to the wind if not her movements, as if she weren’t totally in the mortal realm. The storm was affected by her, not the right way around. 

 

Erandur’s knees nearly buckled. That voice. He’d never heard it with his physical ears, but the racing of his heart and the twisting of his stomach was the same. Sweat broke out on his face and his palms, freezing instantly and cutting little icy wounds into his skin even as the sound did the same to his soul. He knew that voice, and so did Telki.

 

“Mother Mara protect us, it’s Vaermina!” His voice was hoarse with fear, and he seemed frozen in place. Telki did her best to help him; holding him close and soothing her hands over his face and ears. 

 

Honestly, what was her life? She had Daedra coming out of her ears. Since they were full gods with more power than they knew what to do with, she had no clue why a demigod was such a big deal to them. While she had her hands full with Erandur, both Mercutio and Gideon had closed ranks to hide her from Vaermina. This would never do. Vaermina was her problem. She’d handle it. Telki stepped between them to face the Dream Witch.

 

She just hoped Rommy’s faith in her wasn’t misplaced.

 

“Really, Vaermina? Didn’t you learn your lesson last time? Do I need to give you a more suitably horrific suitor?” Telki grinned as Vaermina shrieked in affront. It was probably an evil thing she found such joy in provoking the inhumanly beautiful Daedric Prince to frothing rage, but Telki discovered she couldn’t care less.  She considered it but a small drop of the penance that nightmare owed for all the harm she’d caused.

 

“ **_You!_ ** What are you doing here?” Vaermina snapped, turning to face her. The ice of the harbor darkened around her feet. “I don’t have time to deal with you right…” she paused, her eyes seeming to widen as she sized up the other woman. Her face twisting into a rictus of rage that destroyed any vestige of beauty it had, she snarled, “Oh, you little  _ slut! _ You reek of his magic; how did you weasel your way into his bed?”

 

Telki grinned. She was pretty sure she knew exactly which ‘he’ she was referring to, but couldn’t help needling the nightmare queen further. “Which one?” The winds howling couldn’t match Vaermina’s rage at that point. The sky darkened further and the boom of thunder shook the sky as it took on a threatening greenish tinge. As if she didn’t notice, Telki shrugged. “Either one, all I had to do was be me, and not you.”

 

With an infuriated scream that shook the town like a dragon’s cry, Vaermina threw her hand forward, fingers crooked into claws like she intended to scratch the Khajiit’s eyes out. Lightning arched and danced along her arm toward her rival, so brilliant a white it seemed to cut the very fabric of the world. Telki summoned her new ward, having just enough time to hope it was up to the task. The moment before the bolt could crash into the ice-like dome a swarm of iridescent blue butterflies darted between it and her, catching the levin bolt and twisting around once to encircle it before racing for the startled Prince, knocking her back.

 

Rommy materialized as the insects seemed to slam together, clutching Vaermina’s arm and glaring into her kaleidoscope eyes with his amber ones. His face was the same, but his hair was white as the snow, and his robes had been replaced with an armored tunic and trews in his normal red and purple. For the first time, power seemed to emanate from him like a font. “Touch so much as a hair on her head, and you’ll wish for the days of  Old Sheogorath’s meddling,” he promised, voice low and dangerous as the thunder it had replaced.

 

Her face went expressionless with surprise for a moment, before melting back into the beautiful image it had been before she spotted Telki. “Romulus,” she breathed, her own voice taking on a strange, ingratiating quality unheard of before on Mundus. “You’re here!” Abruptly, she pouted, “And you’re sleeping with mortals!”

 

“You’re quite fond of that yourself,” he reminded her, giving her a brief shake. “What are you doing?”

 

“You ignore me for two hundred years and this is the welcome I get?” she complained, trying to pull her arm free and, when that failed, trying to sidle in closer. 

 

If anything, Rommy’s face darkened. “I told you that I never wanted to see you again.”

 

She shrugged, tossing back a thick rope of hair, “What’s a few pranks between Princes? I’ll forgive you for sending those Orcs after my artifact if you renounce the mortal.” 

 

“Oh, dear,” Sam muttered, hiding behind Gideon as Rommy’s face took on shadows it shouldn’t, eyes seeming to blaze. 

 

“You tormented my people, forced some of them into the Fringes, and you  _ impersonated my wife! _ What in all Aurbis makes you think I’d ever forgive you?” he snarled. Lightning and frost began to play along his hands and arms.

 

Vaermina rolled her eyes, “Oh, please. I know you enjoyed it,” she smirked, glancing up at him through her lashes. “I certainly did.” The smug look melted into a false pleading, “I know you loved Felicia--”

 

_ “Don’t say her name,”  _ he growled.

 

The Prince of Nightmares paused, then continued, “...but you could have those feelings again. I can literally be whatever you want. I enjoyed being your wife.”

 

“Then you’d be spending a lot of time striped.” Telki couldn’t resist.  How stupid could one Daedra be? Posing as his dead wife? What in Oblivion?

 

The pair paused, turning to glance at her. Much of the anger seemed to run out of Rommy as his lips quirked to see her standing there, blowing him a kiss. The shadows around him lifted, and the edges of his features softened, warmth returning to his eyes. 

 

Vaermina gaped, glancing from one to the other. “W-what?”

 

“It’s only been a little while, Kitten,” Rommy reminded her, as if he wasn't holding back another Daedra by the arm, as if she wasn’t even there. “Are you sure you’d want me that long?” 

 

“Didn’t we already have this conversation? Of course I’m keeping you, for as long as you’ll let me.” Telki shook her finger at him, toe tapping in the snow. “No takebacks!”

 

The clouds began to swirl above them, an iris of sky blooming right over the harbor as they pulled back, letting the blue dome beyond peek in. Lightning still flickered along the edges, and thunder rumbled when Vaermina lunged at her, but she couldn’t seem to break the grip Romulus had on her arm. Winking at Telki, he glanced back down at the woman as he yanked her back. “Well, ‘Mina, are you going to go peacefully? I can’t imagine you’d enjoy all your nightmares turned into sunny romps in flower filled meadows, or all your most promising acolytes suddenly running mad.”

 

She turned to glare at him, all the colors of her eyes eclipsed by black, “You wouldn’t dare!”

 

The dark satisfaction on his face was worthy of any naturally-born Daedric Prince. Leaning toward her in a way that probably would have set her heart a-fluttering a few moments ago--and might still, to be honest--he purred, “Wouldn’t I? Tell me Vaermina, just what wouldn’t I dare? Send you packing back to Oblivion with your tail between your legs?”

 

“You can’t!” she reminded him with a superior curl of her perfect lips. “I’ve invested too much power into this town to be banished so easily. You’re not that strong by yourself!”

 

Wagging his finger in mock-admonishment, he retorted, “Now Vaermina, whatever gave you the idea I was by myself?” He turned his head a bit to regard the others, and slowly, she followed his gaze.

 

Sanguine, in all his seven-foot Daedric glory, leaned an elbow against Gideon’s shoulder and waved lazily, “Hey-- _ hic!-- _ Sis, what’s shakin’?”

 

Gideon turned to see how Sam could possibly reach his shoulder, only to startle and gape at the completely unexpected horned Daedra using him as a prop. Sanguine glanced down at him and smirked.

 

“Whattaya know? He really  _ is  _ Sanguine.”  Mercutio was supporting Erandur’s weight at this point, who’d still not recovered from the shock of his old boss lady showing back up.

 

Sanguine smirked at him, glancing him up and down before giving him a wink, “Interested now, Muffin?” 

 

“I…..oh look, they’re still out there on the ice. What are they saying to each other now?”  Mercutio  _ really  _ didn’t want to answer that one. He saw no way that ended well for him, whatever he answered.

 

“Oh yeah, I’m  _ definitely _ coming back for you,” Sanguine chuckled wickedly, stretching out his arms and cracking his fingers.

 

“Permission slip, Sam.” Gideon gently ribbed.

 

“I’ll get Rommy working on that, though if I remember correctly, you let him in without one,” he reminded them, showing a hint of slightly pointed teeth. “Now, I have to go manhandle my sister. Do admire my butt as I walk away.” He smirked at Mercutio again as he added, “I’m not the Daedric Prince of Debauchery for nothing.” 

 

“Get away from me you letcher!” Vaermina’s voice was shrill enough to crack the ice in some places. 

 

“I promise not to grope you unless you struggle too much,” Sanguine promised, taking her other arm. Rommy gave a small, reassuring smile to Telki before all three of them vanished in a burst of darkness, leaving them standing on the harbor under a cloudless sky. 

 

“Well, that happened. Any questions about the authenticity of their daedric-ness?” Telki gave her guys a sheepish grin.  Erandur started to slide down Mercutio’s side. She went from smarty cat to mother hen in an instant, propping herself under his shoulder, cajoling the other two into clearing back to the inn, stoking the fire, and bring the big blanket from the bed, no the other big blanket thank you so much now find some hot cider.

 

A little while later found Telki propped on Gideon, while she cradled a still recovering Erandur close. Mercutio, for a change, looked quiet and concerned, and cuddled the other side, supporting half of Erandur’s weight. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, scrunched his brows, tried again, and decided to remain silent. Gideon was still deep in thought. He could make snap decisions in the middle of battle while Telki was still taking in the situation, but when time permitted, like this, he could take a long time mulling over all the implications. Erandur was being just as thoughtful.

“Telki, you know this could easily go terribly wrong. Without any ill will on Rommy, or even Sanguine’s part, this could go terribly wrong.” Erandur paused, trying to think how best to delicately word what he felt needed saying.

“I know that. You know that. Yet, it feels worth it, and I can’t explain it any better or any more than that. All the whatfors and mightbes in the world cannot outweigh that.” Telki shrugged. “I wish I could tell you why.”

“It may be there’s more going on here than we can see, then.” Gideon finally spoke, great shoulders shrugging. “It may not have been chance that landed us here while Rommy was here.” Gideon smiled. “Maybe the mad need your brand of care, and so you two met.”

The door creaked open, and a tiny yellow head peeked in, glanced around, then popped back out, only to hop into the room. Murril glanced around, then waved shyly when she saw Telki, ducking back behind Romulus when he entered, his normal self once more.

“Hello pumpkin! So, you came with this time?” Telki smiled at the beautiful little Altmer. She gave herself time to consider Gideon’s words. She wouldn’t put it passed Supernatural tampering, and really, having met some of Rommy’s wards, they did need all the looking after they could get.

 

Speak of the Daedra...“Grand Champion!” chorused a bowl of potatoes on one of the tables.

Rommy looked slightly worried...and sheepish. “Uh...sorry,” he said to them. “I probably should have told you about Vaermina sooner. I just...hate her a little.”

 

“That’s okay sugar. I rather hate her a lot, and that was before I found out about her impersonating your wife. The nerve of that….that twaddlepated mammoth dung…” Telk sputtered hunting for words vile enough.

 

He shrugged, though there was a hint of laughter around his eyes. “She’s the Prince of Nightmares. There are few places to find better nightmares than in the mad. She found me...a challenge. I can’t sleep, so she began sending me daydreams...then she enjoyed them so much she came to me as herself. She was intrigued by the love between mortals and wanted to experience it, so she pretended...Well,” his jaw tensed angrily for a moment before he sighed, “After a while, the pretense wasn’t enough for her.”

“Keep telling me things like that. I might start researching ways to make her hair fall out, and her teeth to grow inward.” There was a rather vindictive gleam in Telki’s eyes, and she never stopped stroking Erandur’s hair and ears. It seemed to be a soothing gesture as much for her as it was for him.

 

“I’ll ask Jyggalag. He’d know,” Rommy said, smiling. He wasn’t entirely joking, though. If the Daedric Prince of Order didn’t know, he’d know who did.

 

“Oh yeah! Which reminds me, when you gonna introduce me so I can yell at him?” Telki might or might not be trying to get certain fellas’ minds off the nightmare witch.

 

The room brightened again as he laughed, and Murril smiled uncertainly, her little hand in his as she gazed up at him in something like adoration, then hid behind him again when she realized she had stepped out. “Next time he comes around, you’ll see,” he promised, then glanced down at the girl, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Though you might have to stay with Murril; she’s terrified of the giant ice spike.”

 

“Pfft, giant ice spikes are a specialty, would you like me to teach you what to do with them?” Telki winked at the adorable child. She shifted Erander over, and offered her hand to the little girl. “There’s even a perfect place we can practice downstairs, if you’d like?”

 

The little Altmer stared at her hand for a long moment before glancing up at Rommy. “Go on,” he encouraged. “She’s a music maker, like you. She knows spells, like you. She can help you not be scared anymore.” 

 

Taking a deep breath that seemed to puff her up like a balloon, she pinned Telki with her solemn green gaze before deliberately putting her hand in hers. If it shook a little, her grip was still firm as she released Rommy’s hand and took a step forward. 

Telki smiled as if offered all the honey nut treats in Tamriel. She stood and led her down to the basement, leaving the men to their much needed Talk.

“So…” Rommy started after staring at them for a few uneasy moments. “I suppose I owe you a few thousand years of explanations.” 

“Can we get the short version?” Mercutio was trying, in his own inimitable way, to ease the tension.

 

“Sure,” Rommy replied, contemplating how to explain himself for a moment before diving right in. “I...I’m  _ that _ Romulus. Romulus Amulius. Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, Hero of Kvatch, blah blah, whatever else they call me.” 

 

“Savior of Bruma!” the potatoes cried.

 

“I think you hit all the popular ones.” Gideon was more than slightly dazed.  Erandur wore the false, weary serenity of someone well the other side of their ability to cope with the here and now. Rommy wondered momentarily if he should “check” him, just to be safe, but instead went and collected the potatoes, turning them back into their usual, adoring Bosmer self. He squeaked and sat right down on the floor, counting all his fingers and running them through his hair. Apparently someone had tried to peel one of him again.

 

“So, how did you go from Hero to Daedric Prince? How’d that happen?” Mercutio, of the three, seemed the most accepting of the situation, strangely enough.

 

“Well...I went mad,” he said with a shrug, hand dropping from where he’d run it through his hair. “Watching Martin turn into Akatosh, seeing Felicia... it was all too much. I wandered around for a year before I found myself staring at a big door that looked like a mouth and wandered through into the Isles. Once there...well, Sheogorath had need of a Champion. It was the end of an Era, and the Grey March was coming. He wanted to protect his people, and I needed a purpose. So...” he shrugged again, sinking down onto the rim of the fire pit, “I saved them, and in doing so I took the throne of the Mad God.”  

 

“What is that going to mean for us and Telki?” Mercutio wasn’t going to beat about the bush. Erandur snorted, coming out of his fugue a bit.

 

“I’ve had this talk twice already, it never gets less awkward.” Erandur smiled. “Though, I think these circumstances abuse the notion.”

“I can imagine,” Rommy said, sweeping his hair out of his face again. “Are you all...well, obviously you’re aware that I’m…How do you feel about all this?”

“Telki still vouches for you, and really, given the circumstances, you were rather...restrained.” Mercutio snorted. “The rest is going to depend on what you want from us, and how you treat Telki.”

Rommy shook his head, “I would never hurt Telki. Not intentionally anyway, and if I ever did it by accident I’m pretty sure she’d let me know right away so I could correct it.” Glancing at each of them, he offered a small grin, “As for you three...you’ll probably be put to work handing her blankets once she starts exploring the Isles more.” 

 

All three groaned. It was Gideon that spoke for them. “She would, too, along with warm cider and sweetrolls.”

 

“Don’t burden yourselves with too much,” he said seriously, “The Shivering Isles are a dangerous place, even under my rule, and Telki won’t be putting her own safety first.”  They gave a collective groan; Mercutio went so far as to throw himself against Gideon’s bulk. 

 

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Oh wait, it’s Telki. It nearly goes without saying.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s nothing we’re not used to by now, and  _ you _ called us overprotective.” Mercutio eyed Romulus speculatively. “Changing your tune already?”

 

“Telki can defend herself just fine,” he replied instantly, “I just don’t want her to have to choose between defending herself and defending someone else who barely knows what’s going on, or thinks the monster is their mother. Occasionally, in the Isles, they’re actually right.”

Gideon laughed. It helped ease the tension in his own shoulders, and he watched the two to either side of him relax as well. “So, not that terribly different from our usual gigs, then. I think we can handle that.” Gideon eyed Romulus seriously. “So, what we really want to know is precisely what do you want out of this relationship? Because we can tell you now stealing Telki off to the Shivering Isles and keeping her is not happening.”

Rommy looked appalled, “I don’t want her to hate me!” he protested. That was what would happen too, eventually. It may take eras, but it would happen.

“Good, we don’t want to hate you either. So, talk to us, tell us what you do want.” Erandur never thought he’d be saying those words to a Daedra. What had happened to his life?

He sighed. “Remember that before I...became Sheogorath, I actually went mad. I’d...lost everyone, and everything. The way this works is that I can never forget that. That moment is branded into my mind every moment, as if it just happened. But...she makes it easier to bear,” he looked up, searching their faces for some sign that they understood.

“That’s how love works.” Erandur had a soft and thoughtful look on his face. “And pretty much why I fell in love with her myself. You know my past, and it haunted me. She...softened its grip. Yes, I think I can say I understand.” Erandur seemed to shake the moment off. “So? Monthly visits, irregular popping in and out? Will you stay for family dinners, what?”

“Don’t know. The first time I met Telki I was on a ten year vacation in the mind of a dead, homicidal monarch. I suppose I should have realized what I was in for when she, well, treated him,” he added thoughtfully. Not one of his better decisions, but some days he was more mad than others, and he’d just finished up with that nonsense Vaermina had sent him, mostly by absorbing the nightmares into himself. There hadn’t been all that many people left in the Isles, after that. 

 

All three men were chuckling. It happened to be one of Telki’s favorite stories. “I want you there one night she tells that tale. I want to see your face.” Mercutio was barely coherent. “Do you know she’s kept the hipbone as well as that crazy staff?”

“She should keep the hipbone; it’s a priceless relic,” Rommy said with dignity, then groaned, “Please tell me she doesn’t do impressions of me.” The men rolled, laughing.

“Well, she is a trained bard.” Gideon chortled.

“Saints and Seducers,” he grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be painful.”

Erandur couldn’t help himself. “Welcome to the family, man; you should have run while you had the chance.” He slapped Rommy on the shoulder companionably.

“I’m not sure I ever did,” the Daedra said thoughtfully, his eyes almost brown in thought. They cleared abruptly as he looked at Gideon and Mercutio. “And you’re both definitely alright with this?” They’d better be. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they weren’t, though he supposed it was up to Telki in the end.

“Considering who you are and what you’re capable of, and that I’m still breathing, it’d be right rude of me to say no now, wouldn’t it?” Mercutio shrugged. “It’s not everyone that can say they slugged a Daedra in the face and lived to talk about it.”

Rommy raised his hand with a smirk.

“Yeah, but I’m still mortal,” Mercutio’s smugness turned a bit hunted. “Right?”

The smirk grew a bit bigger.

Gideon thought it’d be best to interrupt before things got any more strained. “Telki said you two shared souls. I trust her judgement, and I like the man I’ve met so far. Who am I to object?”

“I’m not going to lie, I can get very weird,” he told them bluntly. “I’m mad, I’m madness personified actually, no matter what I seem like right now. There will be times I make you all very uncomfortable.”

“Possibly, but considering the life we signed up for with Telki, it’s really just another day.” Erandur smiled at Rommy. “Besides, you called us crazy yourself. What does that say about us?”

“You’re all damned accommodating to that wife of yours, that’s what,” Rommy answered.

“She’s worth it.” Three voices, in unison, answered him. Gideon raised an eyebrow. “And I thought you shared the same opinion, or what are we even having this discussion for?”

Rommy smiled, his eyes lighting up with it. “She is at that,” he said softly, then looked down at the Bosmer smiling adoringly at his feet and back up to them. “I’m not sure anymore if there is such a thing as sanity, after meeting you three, or if I’ve just been at this so long I can no longer tell the difference.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, we seem damned odd to most people we meet.” Mercutio shrugged.

“Now, because you’ve known her a bit longer; how long until she realizes she just became Queen of a Daedric Realm?” he inquired, wondering if this had occurred to them yet, either.

A shriek rattled up from the basement, followed by the stumbling hurried footsteps of a wild-eyed Khajiit. Erandur rather laconically answered Rommy. “About that long.”

 

The Bosmer peeked out from behind his hands, having thrown them over his head when the shriek rang through the air. “By Azura,” he whispered. 

“Rooooommmyyyyy!” Telki barreled into the room, stopping suddenly when she spotted them pretty much where she’d left them.

“Yes?” he asked, eyes shining with suppressed laughter.

“Precisely what is my status in relation to you and the Shivering Isles?” Telki’s voice was very vulnerable and shaky. She was practically quivering in place.

“Well, if you want, we can call you ‘Chief Madman Swaddler’ rather than Queen,” he offered, a bit alarmed at her reaction. Should have expected it, really, but then, she always turned his expectations on their ears anyway.

A lot of grumbling and whining under her breath and a stompy little circling dance later, she huffed over to him, still appearing upset, hauled him up by his collar, and smooched him for all he was worth.

 

“By Azura!” the Bosmer said, nearly becoming potatoes as he blushed.

“Still worth it?” Rommy asked, worried. That certainly hadn’t  _ felt  _ like a goodbye kiss.

“Yup.” She groused. “And the fact I’m not running from a crown you offer ought to tell you that, if nothing else has.”

“Would it help if we said you’d already had your coronation?” he asked, teasingly.

She snorted and smacked his shoulder lightly, then took time to think about it. “As a matter of fact, I think so. If a big deal isn’t made out of it, I think I can manage it.”

“It was a big deal,” he said with a good impression of huffiness. “The Duchess of Dementia is already having a copy of your dress made. Only, she claims hers will be grander. I somehow doubt it.”

Telki fell against his shoulder, laughing weakly. “I wonder where she got fabric with stripes?”

“Er...It’s Dementia. We’d be better off not asking.”

She guiltily looked down the stairs. “Now let me go reassure Murril everything’s alright.”

Murril was on her hands and knees peering around the crate they had been sitting on, looking for whatever had scared the weird, but nice, cat-lady. She glanced up when they came downstairs, her little face a study of confusion.

“Everything’s okay now; I took care of it.” Telki promised. “Thank you for looking, though, I appreciate it.”

Murril smiled shyly, then glanced at Rommy, who gave her a conspiratorial look. Her grin turned sly and she skipped passed them, giggling softly, her cheeks just a shade darker than normal. 

Telki followed her scampering shadow up the stairs with a puzzled look. “Rommy, what?”

“About what you said outside, about becoming my wife” he began, golden gaze on her. “Did you mean that?”

“Um, yeah? Not in the habit of saying stuff I don’t mean?” Telki turned her puzzled look to Rommy. Precisely what had she been unclear about? Telki wrapped both arms around Rommy and nuzzled in under his chin. He was fun to hug.

“...I’ve never had a wedding. I might...half the guests might be...one will be a grapefruit.”

“Well, if it’ll make things easier, can Erandur get a day pass to the Shivering Isles to officiate?” she thought a moment more. “Or we could do two ceremonies, one for the people there, and one for our people here? Up to you. I’m good either way.”

“That...would probably be best,” he said, smiling down at her. “After all, I have to invite the Duke and Duchess, and she might still be showcasing current fashions.”

“Oh dear, how scared should I be?” Telki widened her eyes in mock horror. “Although, I will insist on not wearing what I wore for my  _ ‘ahem’ _ coronation.” Telki poked his chest. “There will be an actual dress made from actual fabric my kids help me make.”

“If she keeps this up I might make one out of the Duchess,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Uh...transmogrification, not skinning,” he clarified. Telki shuddered anyway.

“Thanks for clearing that up, though it didn’t really make it better.” Telki shook her head at him. “And no, I won’t wear it.”

“It wouldn’t be for you; it’d be for the Duke,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow. “You may have met him before. On the road outside Whiterun?”

“The little jester? I can see him being one of yours. Did he ever get his mother buried?”

“Well...ah, no, but the family crypt turned out to be not what he was expecting, either,” he said, wondering if he should tell her and deciding that if Sithis wanted her to know, he could do it himself. Or send a letter. No one really wanted to actually talk to Sithis. Except Jyggy. He sometimes did.

“So, what did the poor man do?” Telki was afraid her brows were in danger of sticking, she rubbed them out. “I can’t imagine he just...left her somewhere.”

“Well, he’d recently lost his entire family, and found out the Skyrim branch was...dead...and...well...he still dotes on his mother in the middle of Mania.” At least, he would until his Dread Father demanded he be sent back to Nirn. 

“Oh.” Honestly, what could she say to that? “Remind me to find a way to politely refuse if invited to tea.”

“The Duke of Mania habitually poisons the tea of his guests to see what kind of constitution they have, so that goes without saying,” he said firmly, holding her close. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her now, especially in his kingdom.

Telki giggled. “Weren’t you the one just telling the other hubbys yesterday how capable I was, all destinified and all that?” She squeezed him. “Sounds like you joined the conspiracy to me.”

“That does not mean I want you down with a flux for a week,” he shuddered.

“Ew. No. And see? I was already of a mind I wanted to pass. So there.” Since he couldn’t see her stick her tongue out, she decided to lick his adam’s apple. It was right there. If he didn’t want it licked, he shouldn’t taste so good.

Rommy shivered slightly, his arms tightening around her. Glancing at the stairs, he considered how long they might have. “The roads will be cleared by morning,” he told her.

“And then what? Can you stay awhile? Have to go back? You never did say how you wanted to proceed from here.” Telki pouted, but only his chin could see. She ran a finger along it, scratching into his beard.

Thinking a moment, he said, “I don’t know. I can’t travel with you all the time, and you can’t spend too much time in the Isles without your husbands ending up there legitimately.” Resting his head atop hers, he thought. “I need to go back and arrange things. Also...I still need to find my descendant. Tyr’s alive somewhere. I’ve been spending most of my time away from the Isles looking, but I’ve hit so many dead ends...”

“We’ll help if we can.  Afterall, having the High King’s ear ought to be good for something. That’s where we need to start. If anyone anywhere still has information about them, it would be Ulfric.” Telki tapped her teeth, deep in thought.

 

“The man who rebelled against the Empire I and my best friend literally gave our lives to save. Wonderful,” he sighed.

 

“Honey, did you give your life for an Empire that was ate up with corruption and backbiting? ‘Cause that’s what it’d become. Hell, they didn’t even care they were about to behead an innocent woman. It was time to start over, and bring it back to something...less rotten.” Telki ran a soothing hand up and down Rommy’s arm.

 

“I will admit things were better back then,” he grumbled, unable to repress the thought of one of his older relatives talking about how much better things were back in his day. He stopped his hair turning white with effort.

 

“It won’t even be the strangest thing we’ve done. Did you know Mara had us matchmaking ghosts at one point? I don’t think you’ve got quite the corner on the crazy market you thought you did.” Telki stopped for a moment. Her thoughts rattling back around to an earlier idea. “Seriously, consider the day pass idea. It’d help if they could actually see what I get up to in the Isles. Okay, well, not the naughty parts. Okay, Mercutio would probably like that, maybe Erandur. Gideon would get uncomfortable.”

“Gideon is going to have his own problems,” Rommy muttered. “But, yes. I can look into the day pass thing. If they promise not to leave the Saint or Seducer leading them. Or, you know, allow them to overwhelm them without a permission slip.”

Telki laughed. “I’ll write a few up, just in case. Those Seducers are very seducery.”

He snorted. “It’s the Saints you need to worry about!”

“Really? Holy mothering mercy, but Goldie seemed so, well, sensible.” Mirth sparkled in her eyes. “I’ll get extra emergency permissions ready then.”

“Goldie was...make extra for the mage,” he said, sparing her what he’d overheard.

“Oooooh? What do you know that I don’t that I really really want to know?”

“I just...hope he doesn’t mind being a little...bottom.”

“Whaaaat?” Telki couldn't believe it, and was only held up by Rommy’s strong arms, her laughter going straight to her knees.

“Oh, and under no circumstances are any of them allowed in the barracks. Unless you don’t want them back,” he added, not joking in the least.

“Nope, no hubbys allowed in barracks. Do I need to specify you as well?” Telki hummed, content to be held and listen to his heartbeat and voice rumble in his chest. “I need all of you, y’know.”

“I wouldn’t go back in there after last time,” he told her. “It took me half a decade to get back out!”

“It’s not funny, but yet, it is. My poor Rommy!”

“It took me the rest of the decade to walk right again,” he added. It was a very good thing he was already holding her, Telki went boneless from laughing. Glancing down at her, he mock-scowled. “Don’t make fun of me, woman, or I’ll show you a bit of what that was like!”

“Promise?” Telki batted her lashes at him. “You’re still worth it.”

Golden eyes softened as they looked down at her. “So are you,” he told her, tilting her face up for a kiss. “So are you.”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to an end, for now, with promises for later.
> 
> {Image will go here, when i can get people to cooperate, and you know I'm lookin' at you, Rommy!}

The sun was shining overhead as if in apology for the four days of hard snow. Dawnstar shimmered under a white blanket rapidly melting to fill the harbor. On the road just outside town, a strange party  walked companionably for a few miles until out of sight of the tower that overlooked the harbor. There, in full, broad daylight, a seven-foot tall man in red and black armor danced and drank with four ordinary men--if one could overlook the fact that they were all standing around in the snow, drinking.

Rommy stopped and sighed, giving Telki’s hand a squeeze. “Reality calls,” he said with great irony.

“So, in about three weeks, I need to be at a meeting with the Reachmen’s new leader, and then I’m free as a bird to swaddle some madmen. Can we make that happen?”

“I’d like to see you before then,” Rommy interjected, gazing down at her.

“Honey, you are welcome whenever, however I can get you. Haven’t you gotten that message yet? I sent the courier ages ago.” Telki kissed him gently.

“I think the Duchess got him,” he replied solemnly.

“When are you going to meet her family?” Sanguine put in as he walked up, eyes shining with mirth. “Shouldn’t they meet the groom before the wedding?”

“Um, no? I want the wedding to happen? He meets them, he might change his mind.” Telki was only half joking. She was actually the most...normal, of her clan, and she’d manage to confuse the Daedra of Madness.

Thinking about this, Rommy stopped and took both her hands in his. “One week after the meeting, can we meet back up here? We can go back to the Isles and work out what we want to do.”

“Works for me. Just for clarification, will we be moving mostly by Daedric poof magic?” Telki wrinkled her nose. “Saddle sores suck.”

“We can go by butterfly if you want,” he replied, his grin at her agreement so bright it eclipsed the snowglare.

“Yes, travel by butterfly is a yes.” Telki was bouncing in place, enraptured by the idea. The memory Rommy had given her was  vivid, and one she cherished.

He glanced over at the others. “It...doesn’t agree with everyone,” he warned. “I should probably do test runs before we go.”

“I’ll take the others!” Sanguine volunteered, pulling Mercutio against his side. “You can ride with me, Muffin!”

“Uhhhhh?”  Mercutio was a bit wildeyed. How would he get out of this one?

“Sam, I need them able to walk,” Romulus called, eyes dancing.

“Why walk when you can ‘ride?’” Sanguine asked equably, gyrating his hips.

“Really, Sam, if you want in Mercutio’s pants, you need to quit chasing him so hard.” Telki advised, mischief bright in her eyes.

Mercutio’s yelp was sharp enough to cut glass. “Not helping, Telki!”

“Hrrumph!” Sam pouted, “I’m still waiting for that lout to write me up a permission slip!”

Romulus laughed, his hair already lightening as he began to slip into his Daedric aspect. “You’ll need Merc’s permission before anyone else’s.”

“Well, that’s no fun. I was planning on waving it around with everyone else’s approval first,” Sanguine said, giving the Imperial a smooch on the head before releasing him. Striding up to the couple, he put his hands on his hips, looking them over. “I still can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the coronation.”

“It was rather spur of the moment. I had no clue what it was while it was happening, even.” Telki offered in explanation.

“I imagine you were a bit busy,” Sanguine smirked, then glanced at Rommy, “Especially now that I know _exactly_ what he’s been hiding from me.”

“I’m never going to live this down,” Rommy muttered, sounding doomed.

Telki narrowed her eyes at the Daedric Prince. “What are my chances of not being groped if I give you a hug?”

“Well, you’ll be my sister soon so...still not very good if I’m honest,” he said, holding out his arms.

“Eh, I’ll give it a shot, at least once.” Telki gave him one of her particularly squishy bear hugs.

Sam sighed happily, and a little wistfully as his lowering hand was restrained by butterflies. “Why did I wear armor today?”

“I don’t know why you wear it at all,” Rommy rolled his eyes.

“Impressing the pretties, of course,” Sanguine replied, winking at Merc before turning back to them. “So, you going to ask her?”

Scowling at him a moment, Rommy took a deep breath and sighed. “Telki, I’d like to...well, I don’t really want to, but I probably should talk to Ulfric. About Tyr, and hopefully no politics.” Still might leave the man with a few scamps loose in his bedroom. And he was taking the cheese. Cheese was too good for that man.

“When you wanna? I can pretty much stroll in anytime I like. Perks of being the ‘Stormblade’ and all that rot.”

He winced. “Right. Introduce me as your fiance first. Mostly in case I end up hitting him.”

“Honestly? I think that passes for a civil greeting here in Skyrim. You do that, you might wind up blood brothers or something.”

Staring at her for a moment, he put both hands on her head, “Hold still, I need to check you.”

“I’m serious! The Companions would send me out to beat the you-know-what out of some ne’er do well, and the next time I was in that town, they’d buy me a drink like I was a long lost friend!”

“Really?” he asked, looking to Gideon for confirmation. Being a Nord himself, he’d probably know if that were normal.

“We respect strength, honesty, and standing up for yourself. Any person willing to beat sense into you, hits all three in one go. You know where you stand with them, you tend to want them for your friends.” He shrugged in a ‘what else’ sort of gesture.

Pausing for a long moment, Rommy finally said, “I’m sending more Saints and Seducers out here. Obviously they’ve been overlooking some people who should be in my realm.”

“And here I thought Skyrim was just your annex you forgot about.” Telki teased.

“Honestly starting to look that way,” he conceded, then sobered a bit. “I really need to find what’s left of my family, Telki, and Tyr’s it. He’s all that’s left of a bloodline linking me to Nirn. If talking to that--to Ulfric--is what I need to do, then I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”

“Huh.” Telki laid her head on his chest as she thought about it. “ Y’know, I bet I could get in to see him to discuss the Reachmen meeting, if you wanted to go there first? We could see what he knows about Tyr.”

He thought about it a moment, then nodded, relieved. “I would. I mean, I need to go back to the Isles for a few days and sort some things out, but I could meet up with you at Windhelm?”

“That works.” Telki snuggled in. “So, then what? I’m sure if he has something, you’re going to want to go now now now, and I’ll have to do the Reachmen meeting. What if he doesn’t have anything for us, or has to wait to find it? Then what?”

Rommy shrugged. “You’ll go to the meeting and I’ll go search or defend my Fringes until after the meeting is over with or he does have something.”

“Sounds about right.” Telki nodded.  “How often will you drop by en route to the Reachmen? You know I want you around as much as I can have you.”

“I’ll be around. I’ll pop in and out when I can.”

“I’ll be _\--hic!--_ around too!” Sanguine promised.

“What is my life, when I’m actually reassured the Daedric Princes of Madness and Debauchery will be checking in on me?”  Telki wondered aloud, grinning at her two favorite Daedra.

“Crazy. Your life is crazy,” Rommy told her bluntly. “Not many people would volunteer to help out in the Oblivion Plain of Insanity.”

“Hmm, must have been preparation all this time to keep up with you, then.” Telki scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at Rommy, enjoying the flitting  expressions chasing each other across his face.

“If you really need help, we’ll need a way there and back. Helping, we don’t mind.” Erandur offered.

“Well, Haskill’s really no good with the children, and after your former...whatever...drove half the Isles off cliffs or into walls trying to beat the visions out of their heads we have an awful lot of children running around. Well, children and dithering idiots. I’m sure the Saints and Seducers would appreciate the assistance. Oh, and Stanley needs help building a wall. He’s convinced the Reiklings are spying on him.” That the Isles didn’t actually have Reiklings didn’t seem to dissuade him.

“We’ll do all we can, then.” Erandur had that look on his face again, one that Telki remembered spending entirely too long trying to wipe away. He was feeling personally responsible about the kids, as if he could control a Daedra.

“Stop that,” Rommy scolded him, watching this. “You’ll drive yourself crazy, and I think you’d take over Passwall.”

“Oh at least.” Telki affirmed. “But you still haven’t said how we’d get there and back again. Can’t do a whole lot from this side of Mundus, y’know.”

“I’ll send someone to get you,” he said, with a little grin that should probably make them nervous, truth be told.

“I’ll do it!” Sanguine volunteered again.

“Sanguine.” Telki warned. “Would your transport services devolve into something I’ll feel honor bound to retaliate, like bespelling your mug of cheer full of Sober Mead?”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him horrified before,” Rommy said, fascinated as he watched his friend with clinical interest.

“Just another of my many talents? I guess? I also noticed he hasn’t answered yet.” Telki narrowed her eyes and started tapping her foot.

Sanguine shut his mouth and very deliberately put his hands behind his back. “You are surprisingly bossy for such a little thing,” he observed. “I like it. Maybe.”

“Oh good, ‘cause I like you, too. Maybe.” Telki teased back. “And you still haven’t answered me, stinker.”

Heaving a huge sigh, Sanguine glanced over at Rommy, “Better just send the Saints.”

He smirked, glance cutting over to Mercutio, “They’re scarcely better.”

Telki could hear Mercutio gulp from her cozy spot under Rommy’s arm.  Romulus gave him a sympathetic look, “Bring stamina potions,” he warned. “For running away if nothing else.”

“Now how would they be able to help with the littles, if they’re being kept busy by the Saints and Seducers? Honestly.” Telki huffed.

Pointing to the others one by one, he said pointedly, “Priest of an Aedra, Paladin of an Aedra, not affiliated with an Aedra. The other two would babysit.”

“Erandur, ever felt like taking an acolyte?” There was definite panic in Mercutio’s question.

“Quick, let’s get out of here before he takes vows,” Sanguine suggested, actually alarmed as he jogged up the road a bit, as if he were actually going somewhere. He vanished halfway up the road.

Rommy shook his head, chuckling. Pulling Telki to him for one last, lingering kiss with a hint of a particular Restoration spell--he had to be remembered, after all--he stepped back and with a last wave at the other men, vanished in a swirl of butterflies and light.

“Dast it, Already miss him.”

“Well _we’ve_ been missing you; c’mere already!” Telki giggled as massive Nord paws pulled her back into him for a rib cracking hug. It didn’t take long for Erandur and Mercutio to complete the hug pile.

“I did miss you guys. I’m simply going to have to build or buy a house big enough for all of us, so nobody has to miss anybody.” Telki playfully tapped her teeth as if thinking. “So, we’ve been missing each other, and we’ve a nice ride to Windhelm to meet with Ulfric. Whatever will we do with ourselves?”

“I say we head for Windhelm, and enjoy each other’s company on the way there.” Erandur squeezed.

“Yeah, depending on what we learn in Windhelm, I vote for a side trip home, too. I need a munchkin fix.” With arms wrapped around each other, they headed back to the Inn to collect their things and head out. They’d have a small breather to enjoy each other and their family, before Destiny came calling again.


End file.
